by Sue Bough
“S’alright, Ern. I forgive you. It’s good to hear your voice.”
“What’s it like there?”
“Dark.”
“Sorry, daft question. Anything going on?”
“Well, my toes are tingling horribly and my toe-ring has started to glow. What do you think that means?”
“No idea, but it can’t be good.”
“It’s not.” The voice of Professor Zube now resonated through the darkness. “We’ve got to move fast. Ernie, are you in position?”
“Roger.”
“Norm, where are you? You need to be twenty paces away from the Zube Tube entrance, remember? Did you count?”
“Sorry, Professor… I got distracted by my toes. I’m not sure how far away I am. Hang on a minute… Spong’s pulling on the lead.”
“Ha! Good little chap! That’s it,” the Professor chuckled. “He knows this plan as well as any of us. Just follow him.”
A few seconds later Norm announced, “Right, I must be in position, we’ve stopped.”
“OK,” said the Professor, “everyone ready? On my count, position your mirrors… THREE… TWO… ONE… NOW!”
An awesome flash of light pierced the darkness, searing Norm’s now sensitive eyes. For a moment he was blinded and didn’t see a startled rock roll behind him in fright. Norm stumbled and fell backwards, clutching his mirror. As he lay on the ground, the intense shaft of light illuminated the bleak landscape. He looked upwards to where he’d been instructed to reflect the beam and gasped. The measly ping-pong ball model in Professor Zube’s laboratory hadn’t prepared him for this.
The Dark Planet, home of the Drones, hung low in the sky, pulsating slowly. It seemed close enough to touch, and a chilling air of hopeless misery seeped from it. As his eyes focused, Norm saw with dread that there was movement on its surface. A menacing contraption was pointing directly at him – the UV ray.
The sight of this spurred Norm into action. He scrambled to his feet and angled his mirror to capture Professor Zube’s reflected light beam again. He fumbled with his protractor… Any second now he would blast the Dark Planet with light.
“Here we go, Spong! Three… two… WHAT?!”
Everything went black.
“A menacing contraption was pointing directly at him.”
The Landing Party
“Everything’s gone black, Professor!” The voice over the walkie-talkie was Ernie’s, not Norman’s. “Professor – the Dog Star… it’s gone!”
Ernie looked around in dismay. The Light Side of the Green Planet had been plunged into darkness. Groups of frightened Poggles were beginning to gather on the surface, pointing and shouting at the sky. Never in their lifetimes had they seen such a thing.
“Professor! What’s happening? What about the plan?” On the Dark Side, Norman felt the panic rise inside him. The ache in his toes was unbearable.
It was several moments before the Professor replied. “I’ve been a fool,” was all he said.
“Tell us what’s happening! Is it the Drones?” Now Ernie was panicking too as he found himself being jostled by the growing crowds, running this way and that.
“No. It’s an eclipse.”
“What does that mean?” Ernie felt himself becoming angry at the Professor’s lack of explanation. “If you know what’s going on, you’d better tell us – things are getting out of hand here!”
“I’m sorry, Poggles, you’re right. I’m just cross with myself. I should have realised the timing. I allowed myself to become distracted. What you’re seeing is called an eclipse – it happens every now and then when something moves in front of the Dog Star and blocks its light from us. I’d forgotten that Planet Cattus was due to cross its path today. The Drones must have known. That’s why they picked this moment to make their move.”
“So, it’s not forever, then? The light will come back? Ow! Watch where you’re going!” Ernie scrambled out of the crater into which he’d been sent flying.
“Yes. Cattus will clear its path shortly and things will be normal again. You’d better tell the nearest Poggle Warden. Get them to calm everyone down.”
“OK. I’ll try. I don’t think it’s going to be normal here for a while, though.”
A nearby group of Poggles were now lying on the ground, kicking their legs in the air and hooting with their eyes closed. Ernie had no idea how that was supposed to help.
“Perhaps I’d better come over there and explain.” The Professor sounded strangely defeated.
“No! You can’t! How do you think Poggles will react to the sight of a giant suddenly turning up in the middle of this chaos? It really will send them mad. Anyway, we’ve still got to finish the plan when the eclipse is over. We’ve got to stop the Drones, remember?” Why was the Professor being so stupid? Ernie would never normally have to tell him what to do.
“I’m not sure there’s much point…”
Ernie was really alarmed now. He’d never heard the Professor be anything other than optimistic. “What are you saying? Of course there’s a point – we’ve got to save the Planet!”
“Ernie, you don’t understand. The Drones aren’t the only problem. They may as well invade us because the Planet is dying anyway. It’s being poisoned.”
“A group of Poggles were lying on the ground, kicking their legs in the air and hooting with their eyes closed.”
“What?” Both walkie-talkies crackled into life.
“I should have told you earlier… I was going to the first time we met, but Norman’s toes distracted me. The Elders and I have known for years that something needed to be done. It’s our waste – we’re running out of space to store it. That’s why I ‘disappeared’ to the Wasteland. I’ve been monitoring the Waste Dome, collecting samples, reporting back, trying to find a solution – but nothing’s worked. The Baracs Beetles used to get rid of it all, but since they died out it just mounts up and becomes toxic. The Dome is nearly full and, if my calculations are right, it won’t be long before it explodes… then it’s the end for us all.”
On the Light Side of the Planet, Ernie watched a sliver of light appear in the sky as the face of the Dog Star peeped out from behind Cattus’s shadow once more. A massive cheer erupted from the crowd, but Ernie had never felt so sad.
On the Dark Side of the Planet Norm’s pain had numbed him. He couldn’t comprehend the enormity of the Professor’s words. Spong trembled beside him, and he scooped him up in his arms.
“S’alright, Spong. We’ll be OK,” he lied.
In the faint light from his toe-ring he saw Spong’s fur turn red. Norman was puzzled. White was for fear… red was a warning.
“What’s up, Spong?” he whispered, having completely forgotten the Dark Planet above his head. A low buzzing began.
Norman turned slowly and saw a long purple beam descending from the Dark Planet. The beam wasn’t made of light as such, but his now accustomed eyes could easily make it out from the thick blackness. And then – something else. Eerie shapes were travelling down the beam… two… four… five in all. Hooded, dark shapes, moving with slow purpose towards his Planet.
“Professor,” he whispered, “they’re coming.”
“How many?” the Professor replied, far too loudly.
“Five.”
“Ah… a Landing Party. They’ll do an advance sweep before the main colony descends. You must leave right now, Norman.”
But Norman couldn’t move. The horror in front of him entranced him. The Landing Party reached the surface and, alerted by Professor Zube’s voice, five evil, hooded shapes turned towards the sound. Their red eyes bored through the darkness above hooked, beak-like mouths. Behind them, their tails – (‘watch out for their tails!’) – striped and writhing like separate entities. Now closer, they had seen him, and without any visible signal they began to hum.
Norm’
s toes trembled in agony. His toe-ring shone, urging him to move, but fear pinned him to the spot. The pitch of the hum rose as the Drones searched for his unique weak point, just as they had done to his ancestors years before.
“Norm, what’s that noise?”
The sound of Ernie’s voice through the walkie-talkie brought him to his senses and he ran. He was only twenty paces away from the Zube Tube and safety, but twenty paces in the solid blackness might just as well have been a thousand.
The awful hum behind him grew louder, rising in pitch again. Norm’s whole body began to shake. He couldn’t run anymore. He knew the Drones were close to breaking him and there was nothing he could do but give himself up.
Norman clutched Spong protectively and hung his head. As he stared down and waited for the inevitable, he felt all his pain lift and was afraid no more. The humming reached a crescendo but sounded almost beautiful now as it resonated through him. Then a strange thing happened. His toe-ring, which had been glowing steadily, now focused an intense beam of light ahead of him. At its end he saw a shining globe with a wonderfully familiar ‘Z’ illuminated on it.
“The Zube Tube! Come on, Spong!” He dropped the wriggling creature, and the two fled towards the light.
Behind him, the Drones cringed from the brightness and their humming ceased, but one of the five was determined. Its red gaze fell to its thrashing tail. It gave an imperceptible nod. Silently, the tail detached itself from its host and slithered to his bidding. Free, and fast as a serpent, it soon overtook its prey.
“Silently, the tail detached
itself from its host…”
Norm was breathless as he reached the Zube Tube entrance. With relief, he stretched out his hand to push the button that would take him home – but something was in the way. Why was Spong’s leash blocking his path? But the lead didn’t have stripes or thrash of its own accord. Realisation hit him just as the Drone’s tail reared like a cobra in front of him. With nothing to lose, Norm leapt over it and punched the brass button on the wall.
Several things happened at once. A furry red blur flew in front of Norman, just as the tail lunged and struck. Norm landed inside the Zube Tube and pulled Spong to safety behind him. The doors slid shut with a ‘shush’ and the tail reared again, slamming angrily against them. An awful yellow ooze dripped down the glass outside.
In the pause before the Zube whooshed him away, Norm knew something was wrong. The leash in his hand was limp. Spong lay motionless on the floor, yellow venom dripping from a patch of his fur.
“Spong… no!” Norm cried; but as he watched, the tiny creature turned from red to a sickly green.
The Antidote
BANG, BANG, BANG!
The Snodgrass’s front door nearly rattled off its hinges.
BANG, BANG, BANG!
“Arthur! What on the Planet is it? Is the sky falling in now?” Isadora Snodgrass’s voice quavered timidly from the living pod where she was sitting with her feet up, drinking nerve tonic tea. The afternoon had been a trying one, what with the pandemonium caused by the eclipse… and now this.
“Stay put, dear, I’ll find out what’s going on.” Arthur Snodgrass patted his wife’s hand and strode into the hall.
“What the…?” he exclaimed as he opened the door. There was his son Norman, bedraggled and terrified, holding… That couldn’t be Spong?
“Dad, help me… it’s Spong… he’s… I don’t think he…”
“Come in quickly, Son, we need your mother.”
Isadora Snodgrass assessed the situation in an instant, her nerves miraculously healing themselves as she took charge. “What did this?” she asked as she examined her patient. She only paused for a second, drawing in her breath, as she registered Norman’s reply.
“A Drone’s tail.”
“Good heavens!” exclaimed his father. “How did that happen? Where did you see a Drone?”
“Questions later,” his mother interrupted firmly. “We must act fast.”
For the next few minutes Arthur Snodgrass quietly obeyed his wife’s instructions to set a fire and fetch blankets and old towels, while she busied herself in the kitchen. Norm watched in wonder as his mother consulted a tatty old notebook then proceeded to collect various herbs and powders from her store cupboard. She put a pan of hot water on to boil and reached to the back of her collection of teapots.
“There you are,” she said as she retrieved a large, black and orange striped pot that Norman had never seen before.
“It was your grandmother’s,” she replied to his questioning gaze. “Not been used for a very long time.”
She blew the dust from its spout and quickly rinsed it. Then, muttering quietly, she began to measure a pinch of this powder, a spoonful of that and a leaf or two from various dusty packets into the striped pot. A musty smell emerged from it as she poured the boiling water on top.
“Ten minutes and the antidote will be ready. I hope we’re not too late.”
Back in the living pod, Arthur Snodgrass had made a roaring fire and the cosiest of beds. Using old towels and hot water as instructed, he carefully bathed Spong’s wound and wiped away as much of the venom as he could. Despite his efforts, Spong was a pitiful sight and shivered uncontrollably as he lay there. Gently, Isadora propped him up and dripped the freshly brewed antidote tea onto his tongue. Spong coughed and spluttered but his eyes remained closed.
“… a pinch of this powder, a spoonful of that…”
“What happens now?” Norm asked hopefully.
“Now we wait,” she said. “In the meantime, I want you to drink this. You look awful.” She handed him a mug of nerve tonic tea and Norm sipped gratefully.
“You’d better tell us exactly what’s been going on.”
There are times when only the truth will do, and Norman knew that this was one of those times. Any punishment his parents might bestow upon him was nothing compared to what he had witnessed that day.
And so he began… The disappearance of Spong, the night-time visit to the Wasteland, meeting Professor Zube… patiently he told them all. There were muffled sobs from his mother on hearing the words spoken by Ilona Quinn and about the toe-ring given to her son by the Master Poggle himself. The fire had died to quiet embers by the time Norman told them of the Professor’s plan to defeat the Drones. He fought back tears as he related his awful encounter with them that had resulted in dear, faithful Spong being stung while trying to save him.
“Well!” was all his mother could say. His father meanwhile had a curious look on his face – a mixture of concern and… was that pride?
Another loud knock at the door broke the silence and heralded the arrival of Bill and Freda Sludgebucket. Ernie trailed miserably behind them. He gave his friend a weak smile and shot a worried look at Spong.
“Afternoon, Arthur, Izzy. Sorry to trouble you but things have to be said,” said Bill, looking anxiously at his wife, who pursed her mouth and nodded for him to continue.
“We know your Norman’s normally a good lad, and Ernie thinks the Planet of him, but he’s gone too far this time. Led him astray he has and put all sorts of nonsense into his head about giant Professors and monsters on the Dark Side. Poor Ernie can’t stop babbling about it. He says the Groans are coming and we’ve got to do something about it.”
“The Drones, you mean, Bill?” Arthur Snodgrass replied calmly.
“What? Don’t tell me he’s got you at it now. You don’t believe all this rubbish, do you? Next you’ll be telling us you’ve invited the giant for tea!”
Freda Sludgebucket tittered at her husband’s sarcasm. There was another knock at the door.
“Answer that, please, Norman. Bill, Freda, why don’t you sit down. I think a pot of tea is called for.” His father steered them firmly to the sofa where they sat down with a bump. Norman returned.
“Better make that a large p
ot, Mum. Can I introduce you all to Professor Zube?”
Four pairs of eyes gawped at a point above Norman’s head as Professor Zube ducked into the room.
“Very pleased to meet you all; Norman and Ernie have told me so much about you. I hope you don’t mind me dropping in like this but it is rather urgent.”
Arthur Snodgrass was the first to recover himself. “My goodness, Professor! I never thought I’d see the day. You are most welcome indeed. Izzy, don’t just stand there; put the kettle on.” He shook the Professor’s hand warmly and looked round for a suitable chair. On finding none big enough, he placed a pile of cushions on the dining table. Professor Zube sat down graciously. The dining table creaked.
“Now do you believe me?” Ernie said triumphantly to his parents who were still agog on the sofa.
Ten minutes later, a pot of refreshing tea had done much to relieve the shock. Mrs Sludgebucket’s cup still rattled against her saucer, but now she was smiling up at the Professor as if he were a celebrity.
Isadora had excelled herself, wheeling in a trolley with no less than three teapots: a silver one with gold stars on it for Professor Zube (she poured the entire contents into a vase for him); a plain black one for the main party; and, much to Norman’s dismay, his tea was once again served in the Fib Pot. Its spout was now so long that his mother had to use a ruler to splint it sufficiently to pour.
“Mrs Snodgrass,” began the Professor after draining his vase.
“Oh, call me Izzy, please!”
Norman shot a horrified look at Ernie – was his mother flirting?
“Izzy, I must congratulate you on your brewing proficiency. A very fine blend indeed. But more importantly, the antidote you have prepared for Spong – poor, brave creature,” he wiped his eye. “Only time will tell if he… Well, the next twenty-four hours are crucial, but he stands the best chance now, thanks to you.”
