2017 Young Explorer's Adventure Guide

by Maggie Allen

  Brick looked up from the figurine.

  “Hey! Stay away from there!”

  Nicole lunged the final distance, opened the secret panel on the wall and whipped out the electric baton. She flicked its switch and pointed its crackling end at Brick, stopping him in his tracks.

  “Careful with that thing,” he said, his hands raised in surrender. “You could hurt someone.”

  “Jenny,” Nicole said, “get their weapons.”

  “Way ahead of you.” Jenny was already pulling Ponytail’s handgun from his holster. She took Brick’s next.

  “Where were you going to put us?” Nicole asked.

  “That room,” Ponytail said. “End of the hall, on the left.”

  “Cool. Lead the way.”

  The girls escorted the space-pirates to the room. They shuffled their prisoners inside the cell at the back and locked the door, then returned to the corridor. Nicole scooped her dragon figurine off the floor and pocketed it.

  “We’ve got to save Gerald,” Jenny said.

  “Not before we free the animals here,” Nicole replied.

  She opened the door from which the barking had come. Inside was a room with a hot orange light and two big cages, and inside those cages were the most beautiful creatures Nicole had ever seen.

  They had the bodies of tigers and heads of zebras. Their coats were striped in different colors: one sparkled blue and gold, like ocean waves and pirate booty; the other, snarling and barking through its zebra mouth, was the same purple and pink as Nicole’s gypsy scarves.

  Nicole realized she was still holding the baton that had been used to zap those poor animals. She tossed it aside and the snarling stopped. Both zebra-cats wagged their tails and hopped around like excited puppies.

  Nicole dug into her pocket for some candy and unwrapped a mini Milky Way bar. She offered it through the bars to the purple and pink animal.

  It gobbled the snack up, its wet sponge of a tongue licking Nicole’s hand and making her giggle. The thing smacked its lips like a dog with peanut butter on its teeth.

  Nicole gave some candy to Jenny, who fed the other animal. Soon enough, both zebra-cats were panting happily.

  “I’m letting mine out,” Nicole said. She did, and was immediately slurped on the face by a sloppy tongue. Jenny followed suit with similar results.

  “Let’s get going,” Jenny said. “Gerald needs us!”

  The girls sped through the corridors with their new friends in tow. They disembarked from the ship. Nicole looked up the hill, letting out a big breath. “This is a lot of climbing for one day.”

  “Pshaw!” Jenny said. “Climbing’s for suckers!”

  Nicole turned to see her cousin sitting triumphantly atop the blue-and-gold zebra-cat.

  “What’re you waiting for?” Jenny asked. “Get moving!”

  Nicole mounted her own new friend, and they tore up the hill.

  Those things were fast! Nimble, too—they darted from side to side, avoiding trees and branches like they were dodging bullets. Nicole kept her head low, a tuft of fur in either hand, her eyes narrowed against the wind.

  “I’m going to name you Crystal,” she said, “like a gypsy’s crystal ball.” Her mount barked happily.

  In no time at all they reached the cave mouth, where the zebra-cats stopped for a breather. Jenny pulled out her stolen guns, a determined look on her face.

  “Are you crazy?” Nicole asked. “Our parents would kill us if they knew we were running around with guns.”

  “Well what do you think we should do?”

  “You said Gerald wouldn’t pick a fight, right? I don’t think the pirates would either—they just want their doubloons back. We can probably talk to Captain Mard and work something out. But if you run in there shooting lasers all over the place, it’ll ruin everything.”

  “Ugh, fine.” Jenny tossed the weapons aside. “You ready to do this, Lady Dracona?”

  “You bet, Pirate Queen.”

  The cave was dark, but the tunnel at the back glowed faintly yellow. Jenny led the way, her zebra-cat pawing quietly.

  The tunnel was huge. It bent to the right almost immediately, and around the curve Nicole saw the source of the light: lamps on the ground, connected by long cables.

  They continued on. After two more twists of the tunnel, Nicole heard something up ahead.

  “That crackle! It sounds like the captain’s gun.”

  “And that’s Gerald’s screech!” Jenny said. “Hurry!”

  The zebra-cats sprinted. Soon enough the tunnel opened into a well-lit cavern with machines and parts stacked throughout. The place was the size of an NBA arena, with a crack in the ceiling big enough to fly a helicopter through.

  At the far end was Gerald, exactly as Jenny had described: a pterodactyl with a crocodile’s tail, all splotchy black and orange. He swooped around the cavern, avoiding laser-blasts from the pirates who took cover behind junk piles and machines.

  “Sorry, Nicole,” Jenny said, “but I don’t think they’re willing to talk.”

  She flipped down her eye patch and shouted a war-cry, charging toward Gerald’s side of the cavern. Nicole tried to follow but couldn’t control Crystal: the zebra-cat veered to the right, barking and snarling, making a straight line for the man who’d caged and shocked it.

  Captain Mard, huddled behind a machine that looked like a NASA command console, saw the purple-pink blur coming. He swung his gun and fired an orange blast that hit the ground at Crystal’s feet. Rocks exploded upward and Nicole was flung from her mount, rolling into the cavern wall. She smacked her head, and everything went black.

  When she came around, the battle was still raging. It looked like she’d only been out a few seconds—maybe a minute, tops—but things had gotten ugly since then. Jenny zipped around on her mount, trying to avoid the crossfire. Gerald was backed into a far corner, no longer airborne, guarding a mound of bright doubloons. As Nicole rubbed her sore head and regained her footing, the space-pirates organized into a tight group that advanced on the pterodactyl. Jenny swung her mount around and stood before Gerald.

  “There’s no need for you to get involved,” Captain Mard said. “Just step aside so we can put this thing out of its misery.”

  “You don’t have to hurt him!” Jenny said.

  “As long as he’s around, our doubloons won’t be safe. Now move out of the way, or you’re going down with him!”

  Nicole had to do something. The pirates were far away and not facing her, so she had the chance to act without being seen.

  She looked to the console where Captain Mard had been. Nearby, on the ground, was the flame-spewing pistol that had been tested before everyone journeyed up the hill. She ran over and picked it up.

  With the space-pirates clustered so closely, Nicole could probably hit them all at once. But she couldn’t set anyone on fire—what a terrible thought! There had to be some other way.

  “I’m giving you thirty seconds,” Captain Mard said to Jenny. “If you haven’t moved by then, you’ve chosen your own fate.”

  Nicole’s mind scrambled. If she couldn’t use the pistol, there had to be something else. The console, maybe—but what did it do?

  She couldn’t read the symbols on the sliders and buttons, but she did recognize something that looked like a microphone. This must have been the machine Jenny had told her about—the one that let Gerald talk, and turned Jenny’s voice into a dinosaur’s.

  “Ten seconds!” Captain Mard said.

  Nicole felt the dragon figurine in her pocket. Use your imagination, she thought.

  “Five seconds!”

  Nicole found a big red knob that could only be the machine’s volume control. She cranked it all the way up, grabbed the microphone and ran into an unlit side-tunnel.

  “Four! Three! Two!”

  Aiming the fire-pistol at the tunnel mouth, Nicole unleashed a huge jet of flame into the cavern.

  “Stand down, alien scum!” she said into the microphone, h
er amplified dinosaur-voice shaking the rock walls. “Or suffer the wrath of Lady Dracona!”

  She shot more fire into the cavern, then released the trigger and peeked out from the darkness of her tunnel.

  “A dragon!” Captain Mard said, dropping his gun and stumbling backward. “This crazy beast used our doubloons to make a dragon! No fortune is worth our lives, boys—I’m done with this planet. Run!”

  The space-pirates sprinted to the main tunnel and disappeared. Nicole ran from the shadows to meet Jenny.

  “That was you, ’Cole?”

  “Of course not. That was Lady Dracona!” Nicole shot a brief flame-jet into the air.

  Gerald stared at Nicole with those shiny purple eyes. He held up a finger on his wing, as if requesting her patience.

  The pterodactyl waddled over to the machine Nicole had used. He placed a sort of mechanical crown on his head, plugged it into the machine and fiddled with some controls.

  “Thank you, friend Nicole,” a voice said. It came from the machine, accented in British. “Your quick thinking saved not only us, but also the poor animals that would have been crafted from the information in those doubloons.”

  “I’m just glad I could help. What’s going to happen to the doubloons now?”

  “Ideally, I’d like to deliver them into the hands of someone trustworthy. Someone who will use the information to preserve these beautiful species, rather than enslave them. There are surely races beyond the stars that would do such a thing, but—unfortunately—I haven’t yet built a machine capable of interstellar travel. This may take some time.”

  “So you’re going to stay here and work on it?”

  “If you two would be so kind as to keep my secret, yes.”

  The girls jumped with joy, assuring Gerald they’d never tell anyone about the genius space-pterodactyl living in the cave. Their celebration was interrupted when a big, spongy tongue assaulted Nicole.

  “Crystal! You’re okay!” She hugged the zebra-cat’s neck. It barked and wagged its tail.

  “Now,” Gerald said, “it’s time we got you two home. Your parents must be worried sick.”

  “Can I ride Crystal?” Nicole asked. “It’d be faster!”

  “Perhaps next time. For now, I must insist we employ an even quicker method of travel.” He removed the headset and spread his wings wide, exposing his belly.

  “Oh my gosh,” Jenny said. “This part is the best!” She climbed into Gerald’s belly-pouch like he was a giant kangaroo. “Wait,” she said then, “this won’t work. ’Cole’s afraid of heights.”

  Nicole thought back to the pirate ship, with the kelp-trees and merfolk village down below.

  “Nicole might be,” she said, “but Lady Dracona isn’t!” She climbed inside with Jenny, and whoosh! They were up and away, through the crack in the cavern’s ceiling, climbing way up high.

  They soared over the countryside, screaming with delight as the wind rushed their faces. Below, the land was a patchwork of blue and black, half-lit by the moon. Tiny trees and fences zipped by, while beetle-sized cows glanced up curiously.

  “Look!” Nicole yelled. “Mister Weston’s scarecrow! I think it just waved at us!”

  “It totally did!” Jenny replied.

  They laughed and cheered the whole way, these witches riding the sky on a magical Halloween night.

  Weeds

  by Dianna Sanchez

  Dianna Sanchez is the not-so-secret identity of Jenise Aminoff, whose superpower is cooking with small children. She is an MIT alumna, graduate of the 1995 Clarion Workshop and Odyssey Online, active member of SCBWI, and a former editor of New Myths magazine (www.newmyths.com). Aside from eighteen years as a technical and science writer, she has taught science in Boston Public Schools, developed curricula for STEM education, and taught Preschool Chef, a cooking class for children ages 3-5. A Latina geek born in Albuquerque, New Mexico, she now lives near Boston, Massachusetts, with her husband and two daughters. Her debut novel, A Witch’s Kitchen, came out from Dreaming Robot Press in September 2016.

  I could be back on Mars, I think, looking up at the flaming pink range of the Sandia Mountains. Homesickness hits me with at least as much force as the gravity. I could be home, but I’m not. There’s a faint smear of green along the top of the Sandias, something I have never seen outside of a dome. And the sky above is a deep, surreal blue, the kind of sky I’ve only ever seen in photos or paintings. Still, I can see why Abuelo said he felt right at home when he moved from Albuquerque to Mars. To the east, above the mountains, I can just make out the faint streak of the comet, moving slowly towards Earth.

  The Earthborn guy at the car rental counter behind us clears his throat.

  “Oh, sorry,” Mom tells him, tearing herself away from the sunset. “It’s been a long, long time since I’ve been home.”

  This is still home for her, after all these years. I pull away to stare at the mountains again. I never should have agreed to come with her.

  The guy behind the counter stares at me. I can feel it, like a hot wind on my neck. “Here you are, ma’am,” he says, handing my mother the keys. “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer a fully automated model?”

  Mom laughs her short, sarcastic bark. “You think driving on Mars is any different from driving on Earth? Relax, amigo, I bought your insurance.”

  “And will your, ah, daughter be driving? Is she old enough?” He paused, then asked delicately, “Can she drive wearing that thing?”

  “Of course she can drive in that thing, but I don’t think she’s old enough here. She’s fourteen.”

  He gapes at me, and Mom bursts out laughing. “Martian children grow fast. Less gravity to keep them down. Come on, Lupe, let’s go.”

  We head for the doors, my exoskeleton whirring softly, walking for me, our luggage following dutifully behind us. The doors open automatically, and I cringe. I know it’s safe, I know this world has air, but I have to convince myself, step by step, to walk outside. And then I stand still for a moment and think, I’m not in a dome. I am standing outside, unprotected, and I’m alive.

  My mom says, “It’s okay, Lupe. The gravity’s tough for me, too. Espera aquí, I’ll go get the car.” She walks away in a weird, flat shuffle and leaves me there under the crazy, bruise-colored sky. It’s true, the gravity is crushing me, despite my exoskeleton supporting my skinny, Marsborn bones. It hurts to stand, to move, to breathe. The air is so thick and heavy and full of weird smells: dust and exhaust and something vaguely herbal. Sagebrush? Manzanita? I have no idea.

  The car pulls up, a good big one. They still make them big here. The front seat is more than roomy enough to accommodate me and my exo. I slide in and sit gratefully. My feet begin to throb.

  Mom eases us out of the rental lot and down the short drive to the highway. The city’s lighting up around us, a tattered blanket of glittering light stretching from the mesa to the Sandias. It makes me dizzy. The total population of Mars could fit inside Albuquerque.

  As Mom drives us through the city, the restaurants and office buildings and mercados get farther apart, giving way to squat adobe homes. Traffic thins out. We can see open fields on either side of the road, glittering in the city light, covered with solar panels. Once, these fields were full of corn, tomatoes, chiles, or maybe alfalfa for pasture. Once, there was water to irrigate them all. Once, water ran freely on the surface. The thought makes me shiver.

  A flock of black birds rises from the branches of a dead tree, and I squeal. I’ve never seen an animal outside of a zoo. How can they fly in this gravity? “Mom, are those crows?” I ask.

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “They’re bigger than I imagined.” Abuelo had tried to show me, spreading his hands like wings. His hands are so small, though. Strong, rough, with dirt under the nails, but tiny, like all Earthborn hands.

  “Venga, Lupe,” Abuelo called. “You know the corn won’t grow unless you plant it.”

  “Coming,” I yelled back. “I have to suit up!” I hurr
ied to the airlock and struggled into my big, crinkly dustsuit, checked my breather mask, then strapped it to my face. I pulled on a hat my mother knitted for me, decorated with cats and stiff with Marsdust.

  Abuelo stepped in after me, already in his suit, and sat to tug on his work boots. I slipped my feet into my boots—they were my brother Jaime’s before, a little big, but I didn’t care. I tugged the straps as tight as I could and then hopped up.

  “I’m ready, I’m ready!”

  Abuelo grinned at me, his chin grizzled with gray and black stubble, his face like wrinkled brown leather. “Let me put my breather on.” He pulled on the mask and a wide-brimmed hat, then picked up a sack of seed corn and stood up. At eight years old, I was already his height. “Okay, vamos.” He closed one airlock door behind us and hit the cycler. The little airlock grew cold, and my ears popped. A green light flashed, and Abuelo pushed open the outer door.

  The dome covered five acres of beige soil. It was like a park inside an enormous glass balloon. We walked past the rows of early spring crops: broccoli, chard, lettuce, peas, and my grandfather’s favorite, quelites, also known as lamb’s quarters. “They’re weeds,” he’d told me proudly. “Easy to grow, don’t need much water, perfectly edible. No one else thought of bringing edible weeds.”

  That day, though, we were planting corn. We headed out to where the bot was buzzing back and forth across the field, digging furrows and laying drip-tape alongside them. Each drip spot was marked with a bright yellow dot, so we’d know just where to plant.

  “Okay, nieta,” Abuelo said. “Ready to plant?”

  “How many?” I asked, though I knew. It was part of the ritual.

  “Just two,” he told me, smiling. “We used to put three, two to grow and one for the crow…”

  “…but there are no crows on Mars!” we finished together, and I laughed.

  He sighed. “No crows, no caterpillars, no grasshoppers, but also no earthworms, no bees.” We kept the CO2 content too high in the dome, to help the plants grow. It would kill any insects.