The High Gyrn chuckled to itself and continued. “Very entertaining, indeed, but recordings are not the same as things. You can fill a room with things. You can touch them, you can count them. And I want some thing from Earth.”
“Well, why don’t you just go there and collect something?”
The creature gave a mental snort. “We like collections, not collecting. We send out collectors, but just now most of our worlds that-are into space travel are busy with wars or trade or something. I don’t like to bother them. Of course, we’ve collected enough of their weapon inventions to blow up your border worlds if we choose. But that wouldn’t really gain us much, would it?”
“No! No, not a thing.”
“Precisely. And it is things I so want. So, here’s the deal: I won’t blow up your bases if you go back to this Earth place, return their little spaceship, and bring me back something.”
“What exactly?”
“Oh, a surprise. I love surprises! Of course, it had better be the right surprise.”
Tsynq Yr’s whiskers twitched nervously. “Any clues as to what that might be?”
“How pushy you are! It has to be something special, something unique, something very Earth. As you can see, I have quite a lot of things already. I wouldn’t want any duplicates or same-idea things, would I?”
Tsynq Yr sagged at the thought of all the rooms and rooms of things he had just seen. And that had probably only been a fraction of the collection.
“Come now, it’s time you were off,” the hairy tangle said, settling comfortably into its spike bed. “All this talk of little Earth has got me hankering to watch one of their shows. I’d invite you to stay but you haven’t the time, you know. If I don’t hear from you in a bit, I think I will blow up a few of your bases. We’ve just collected some new weapons that I’m really itching to try.”
“And how long is ‘a bit’?”
“Until I get tired of waiting, of course. Now do be off.”
Abruptly, the little trolley bumped Tsynq Yr from behind. In a daze he climbed in and watched in despair as the thing took him through a new series of rooms bulging with collections.
Once in his ship he wasted no time before taking off, putting a towing beam on the shuttle, and laying course for Earth. Finished with the busywork, he had time to think. And his thoughts were not good.
“Why didn’t that creature just eat me or pour melted bronze over me and add me to his collection? It would have saved time. What was that phrase Karen and Jonathan had? ‘How on Earth’ am I going to do this?”
3
Troubles
On the couch in Jonathan’s house, Karen and Jonathan sat with eyes glued to the TV. Occasionally one would dig a hand into the popcorn bowl, scattering a few kernels for Sancho waiting on the rug.
“What you two watching?” Jonathan’s father asked as he walked through the room.
“Shh. Star Raiders Six,” his son said.
“But you’ve already seen that movie, haven’t you?”
“Twice. But this is the first time it’s been on TV.”
An ad for toilet cleaner came on. Karen, Jonathan, and Sancho padded into the kitchen for a refill on popcorn.
“I still think Star Raiders Seven is the best,” Karen said. “It’s got all that stuff with dragons.”
“Nah,” Jonathan insisted, “the best is Star Raiders Three with the berserk computers. They’ve all got their good parts though.”
“Well, the best part in any of them is the escape from the Spider Swamp in Four.”
“No, it was the gladiator fight in Two. Or maybe the mud flood in Five.”
“Aren’t they ever going to stop making those movies?” his father asked, rummaging in the refrigerator. “That actor who plays the lead Raider must be as old as the hills by now.”
“Trevor Conway?” Karen said. “He’s not much older than you are.”
“Like I said,” he laughed, “an old crock. But if I were Trevor Conway, I’d retire with my millions and stop leaping around in front of a camera.”
“He can’t do that!” Jonathan protested. “No one else can play Alex Greystone, and without Commander Greystone Star Raiders is nothing.”
“Right,” Karen added. “Star Raiders Nine is being released this summer, and there are rumors of a Star Raiders Ten coming next year. So Conway has to stay on.”
Jonathan’s father grunted and left the room. “You’d think you two would have had enough of space by now. But at least Greystone and the others are human.”
“Lieutenant Cybo is part robot,” Karen corrected him.
Jonathan headed back to the TV, yelling over his shoulder, “And my favorite is Zan, the winged Kiptelan.”
“But at least there are no skunks,” his father called as the screen door banged behind him.
Karen and Jonathan looked at each other, then settled back to watch the movie. Staring at the screen, Karen said, “Your parents are just like mine. They wish the whole thing last fall had never happened.”
“Yeah, but at least they admit it did,” Jonathan said, pushing his glasses back along his nose, “not like those NASA people telling the press that they didn’t see what they saw.”
Angrily, he shook a fistful of popcorn at the TV. Sancho scarfed up the kernels that flew loose. “This sort of stuff isn’t just movies. It’s really happening out there. Stinker may not look like Commander Greystone, but real adventures happen in space all the time. Those people are just afraid to admit it.”
Karen nodded, dipping into the popcorn again. “And having a bit part in one was pretty awesome—when it wasn’t totally terrifying.”
The movie was almost over when the telephone rang. They were both so involved in the rescue of the rebel priestess by Greystone and Zan that they didn’t notice anything else until the credits were rolling. Jonathan’s mother was watching them from the living room doorway.
“That was Mr. Blimpton from NASA on the phone. He wants to come here and have another talk with you two.”
“Oh, no!” they squealed together.
“There isn’t one new question they could possibly ask us,” Jonathan complained.
His mother nodded. “That’s what I said. But he said they’d been studying the remains of the spaceship and those dead Zarnk creatures, and some more questions have come up.”
“Blimpton’s the worst of them all,” Karen grumbled. “He’s like those bad-guy cops on TV. They think if they ask the same stuff over and over you’ll break down and confess.”
“Do you have something to confess?” Jonathan’s mother asked.
“No,” said Karen, “but if we did, maybe they’d believe us and leave us alone.” She turned to Jonathan. “Let’s go outside. Once that NASA creep gets here he’ll have us locked up for hours.”
The leaves in the woods were the fresh green of early summer, and the birds chirped with special vigor. Karen and Jonathan did not share their mood. Without thinking about it, they walked to the spot in the woods where Stinker’s spaceship had crashed and where later they had seen their first Zarnk. The swampy ground was now all torn up from the government people’s search for the remains of the Sylon’s ship.
“What are they so scared about?” Jonathan asked, as he kicked a rotten log. The smell of rich decay wafted up, then blew away on the breeze. “I mean, pretending there isn’t life out there in space isn’t going to make us any safer.”
“It’s crazy, all right,” Karen said. “One part of the government digs up the spaceship and tries to figure out how it worked, and another part tells us there aren’t any such things as alien spaceships.”
Taking a stick, Jonathan began poking around in the log’s spongy wood, thinking how Stinker the skunk would have liked eating the fat grubs he was uncovering. The little fellow had liked grubs almost as much as peanut butter. “But if people believed that there couldn’t be anything neat out in space, movies like Star Raiders wouldn’t be such hits.”
“So anyway,” Kar
en said, grabbing up a stick and thrusting with it like a laser sword, “let’s play Star Raiders. We’ll do enough talking once Blimpton gets here. I’ll be Alex Greystone.”
“You can’t be,” Jonathan protested, finding his own laser sword. “You’re a girl.”
“So? ‘Alex’ can be a girl’s name, too. Besides, if you can accept space people who change bodies, why can’t you accept a girl being a Star Raiders Commander?”
“Humph. Well, okay. But I get to be Zan. And I carry the disintegrator grenades.”
“Right. And Sancho can be that scaly mascot they had in Star Raiders Two.” She spun around and brandished her laser. “Look out! The Imperials are behind those bushes. We’ll have to sneak up on them!”
For hours they stalked, ambushed, and fought their way through the woods. The summer sunshine was now cast by a double star. The leafy trees were strange alien growths, and the soft call of mourning doves was the attack cry of lethal Lubian loons.
They had just worked their way to the edge of the Ice Forest when Jonathan caught a flicker of movement from the corner of his eye.
“There!” Karen yelled. “Use the disintegrator grenades!”
With a fierce cry, he hurled a handful of “grenades.” There was an indignant yelp from behind a bush. Picking a pinecone from his sleeve, Mr. Blimpton of NASA stepped into view.
With his neat gray suit and pale plump face he did look very alien in the sunlit woods. Standing there, he seemed to drain all pleasure from the day.
“Your parents said I might find you here. These alien weapons you were just discussing, are they ones your supposed interstellar friend told you about?”
“Get with it,” Jonathan said disgustedly. “They’re from Star Raiders.”
“I bet you never watch those movies, do you?” Karen asked.
“Of course not. They’re speculative trash.”
“Figures,” Karen said, dropping her laser sword and trudging toward home.
For the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, Mr. Blimpton talked with them in Karen’s living room. Then, after a brief break for dinner, he turned the tape recorder back on and asked what seemed like the same questions all over again. Once again he had them draw what they remembered of the Sylon power unit. As usual, Karen thought, her drawing looked more like a fat dumbbell with acne. She had just decided to add more knobs at one end when she noticed Jonathan’s frozen expression. He was listening to the TV news her father was watching in the next room.
“. . . will not confirm these reports. But reliable sources say that this afternoon an unidentified object was tracked moving toward California. Edwards Air Force Base has been closed to the media, but there are rumors that a vehicle has unexpectedly come down on the landing strip there. One report is that the vehicle is the missing United States space shuttle.”
Karen and Jonathan exchanged trembling grins and charged into the TV room. Mr. Blimpton, a look of surprise and worry on his plump face, was following when the phone rang. Karen’s mother answered and handed Mr. Blimpton the phone.
“Reportedly,” the TV announcer continued, “the vehicle was unmanned and landed according to programmed instructions. Again, none of this has been confirmed by NASA or the air force, but it does lead to speculation that . . .”
Jonathan and Karen, already speculating in one corner of the room, suddenly caught part of Mr. Blimpton’s phone conversation.
“I understand, sir. This changes everything. . . . Yes, our only link . . . Yes, I agree, they might have the answers. . . . Is there a flight that soon? . . . Good, you’ll arrange it then? . . . Yes, indeed. Good-bye.”
Blimpton walked into the room, turning a chummy smile on the two children. “Well, well, you two are in luck. You’ve just won a free trip to Washington, D.C.”
“What?” they chorused.
“Yes, this little business with the space shuttle. All rumors, of course, but it does change things. There are some important people back in Washington who would like to talk with you.”
“Now, just one minute,” Karen’s father objected.
Karen tried to listen to their argument, but in her mind another voice kept butting in.
“Don’t do it, kids. I’ve got a better offer.”
She looked at Jonathan and he looked at her. “Did you hear something?” he whispered. She was about to answer when that voice cut into their thoughts again.
“Just pack what you need for a short trip and let’s split.”
Together they turned and stared out the window behind them. A pointed black-and-white face was peering in, its nose and whiskers pressed against the glass.
“Stinker!” they shouted in their minds.
4
Old Friends
Blimpton and Karen’s parents were too busy arguing to notice the kids and Sancho slip out onto the porch. Sancho was so happy to see his old friend that he rolled him over and had nearly bounced him down the steps before Jonathan hauled off the giddy, slobbering dog. With a squeal, Karen swept the skunk up in a big hug.
“Oh, Stinker, we’re so happy to see you again!”
The answering thought was a little shaky. “So it seems. But I’m happy to see you, too. It’s such a nice quiet planet you’ve got here.”
“We just heard about the space shuttle,” Jonathan said. “You programmed it to land in California, then you came here?”
“Right. My ship is in the woods.”
Karen glanced back to the house. “You don’t suppose radar could have tracked you here, do you?”
“No way. Not this ship.”
“Good,” Jonathan said. “I think we’d better keep this visit quiet.”
Stinker cocked his head. “You had some trouble over the last one?”
Pushing his glasses back, Jonathan sat on the porch railing. “Oh, only over aiding an alien to steal a U.S. government vessel.”
“Hey, I just borrowed it. The thing’s back safe and sound now.”
Karen put Stinker down on the porch swing, out of Sancho’s eager reach. “We told them you’d return it. But I think what really freaked all the government people was the idea that there’s a universe full of weird-looking aliens with better ships and weapons than we have.”
Jonathan nodded, pointing back to the house. “And one of the government guys is in there right now. He wants to take us to Washington and ask a bunch more questions about you and the Zarnk and stuff.”
“And you want to go?”
“No way!”
“Good, then here’s my offer.” Stinker paced back and forth on the swing, setting it jiggling. “I’ve got to confess, this is not just a social visit. I need your help again. I’ve been sent on a sort of high-stakes scavenger hunt, and I don’t know this planet well enough to have a clue where to start looking.”
“Well, what are you looking for?” Jonathan asked.
“I don’t know! It’s got to be something that would appeal to the High Gyrn of Twak.”
“Who?”
“The lunatic who runs this part of space. It turns out that your planet is on the fringes of Twakish territory. And the High Gyrn was really ticked off when I landed here without permission and then went off with a shipload of native animals. The skunks he says we can keep, but to make up for the act I am to bring back something for his collection.”
“So what does he collect?” Karen asked.
“Everything! You should see that place of his. Rooms and rooms of junk from every sort of planet. But he doesn’t want just anything from here. It has to be something perfect. Something very ‘Earth.’ And if he doesn’t like what I choose, or if I don’t bring it back soon enough, he’s going to wipe out a bunch of Sylon border bases. It could start a war. Lots of folks could get killed. And all because of me!”
Karen sat down and stroked the white stripe that ran over his head and down his back. “Come on, Stinker, it’s not your fault you crashed here, and borrowing the shuttle was the only way for you to get home.”
“What does he look like?” Jonathan asked.
“Hmm. Like that picture you showed me once, of Santa Claus, only without the man.”
Karen giggled. “You mean, without the beard.”
“No, he’s all beard. A great dirty white blob of hair, kind of wispy around the edges. There may be eyes or limbs somewhere, but I never saw any.”
“Weird city,” Karen commented. “What are . . .”
“Karen, Jonathan,” her mother’s voice called from inside. “Where are you? We’ve agreed to let you go to Washington, but that means leaving tonight. You’ll have to pack in a hurry.”
“What’ll we do?” Karen whispered. “We don’t want to go with that creep.”
Stinker answered, “Go pack, but come with me instead. My ship’s in the clearing where we first met. Join me there when you can.”
“Karen!” Her mother started to open the door. Stinker dove off the porch into a bush. “There you are. Jonathan, we’ve already talked with your parents, and they’re expecting you home to pack. Mr. Blimpton will come pick you up once Karen is ready.”
“Oh, that’s okay, I can walk back here.”
“Nonsense, young man,” Blimpton said from inside the house. “I’ll collect you. Your parents were understandably concerned about just sending you off like this, but I’m proud of them and of you. Proud of your good sense and patriotism. This is a grave security matter, and I know you’ll want to do everything possible to protect your country from threats—wherever they come from.”
“Yeah, sure. So I’ll go pack. See you soon, Karen.”
“Right,” Karen said firmly as she hurried upstairs to her room. Grabbing her school backpack from where she’d dumped it the last day of school, she tumbled out the books and began stuffing in some spare clothes.
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