The fence that had so conveniently hidden the spaceship had been pulled back. On the grass, in plain view, the little Sylon scout ship sat next to the movie model. A man in a shiny costume stood behind a podium speaking to the crowd.
Karen and Jonathan both recognized him at the same time. “Trevor Conway!”
“As I said,” the actor’s familiar voice boomed over the microphone, “this is an age of surprises. The gift of this famous Star Raiders model is a surprise for the American public. The second model, I must admit, is a surprise to me. But Hollywood studio people are like that. Always keeping you a little off balance so you stay on your toes.”
The crowd laughed.
“But I suddenly realized that it’s meant to be a happy surprise for both of us. This other ship, with its bold new lines, can be none other than the model designed for Star Raiders Ten!” The crowd cheered. “Which means that speculation in the media can finally end. There will be another Star Raiders movie!” The crowd cheered more wildly. “And because they chose me to reveal this, it must mean that speculation about my own career can also end. The studio must mean for Trevor Conway to return as Alex Greystone and to blast through the universe once again!” The crowd went totally crazy.
“Sorry to disappoint him,” Stinker muttered mentally, “but it’s time we did our own blasting through the universe.” He began trotting briskly across the grass toward his waiting ship.
Karen and Jonathan had started to follow when the crowd around them was forced aside by several men. They both bolted forward, but men lunged and gripped their arms.
“Got them!” someone said.
“Good. Anyone seen the skunk?”
Several people in the crowd were now screaming and pointing to where a skunk loped across the grass.
“There!” a man beside Karen yelled. As someone else yanked her away, she saw the man raise a rifle.
“No! You can’t!” she screamed.
The gun popped like a balloon.
Twenty feet away, Stinker flipped through the air and lay still, a small black-and-white lump on the green grass.
10
New Directions
“Stinker!” Karen cried, but no familiar voice touched her mind. She and Jonathan were steered roughly back through the crowd. Once on the sidewalk, a new, smaller crowd surrounded them, all looking grim.
A police officer stepped up. “Thank you, gentlemen. I think I can take charge from here.”
“Afraid not, officer,” Mr. Blimpton said, flashing some identification card. “This is a top secret national security matter.”
The police officer grunted but stepped back, only to have a museum guard push his way forward. “Security or not, there is still the matter of stolen museum property.” He stared down at the two children. “Where are the Ruby Slippers?” Both Karen and Jonathan put hands in pockets, and each pulled out a sequin-covered red shoe.
“They were bought, not stolen,” Jonathan said sullenly.
“But they’re no use now,” Karen said, feeling too numb to be very angry. “Take the miserable things.”
In a confused swirl of people, they were hustled into a waiting car. It sped off with Karen, Jonathan, and Blimpton in the backseat. The two children stared blankly out the windows at the Washington street scenes.
“Quite a chase you led us,” Blimpton said. They both just sat there.
“You can wait until you get to my office before you talk about this, if you want.”
After another long silence, Jonathan said, “I don’t think I want to talk about it. I want to go home.”
“Yes, in time, but you have a great deal to tell us first.”
“Wrong,” Karen said coolly. “I wouldn’t tell you if your coat was on fire.”
They spent the rest of the ride in stony silence.
Outside the museum, the animal control officers apologized for the interruption and hurriedly scooped the skunk body into a carrying cage. They made their way through the crowd and slid the cage into the back of their truck, setting off a chorus of barking from the two dogs already caged there. Ignoring the noise, they walked around the truck, climbed into the cab, and drove off.
“Well,” the driver said, “that was one of the weirder assignments in my career.”
His companion nodded. “In this town, you learn not to ask questions, but I’ve still got plenty.”
“Yeah, like why we got last-minute orders to use tranquilizer darts instead of bullets, and then why we’re supposed to bring this skunk to the Pentagon. Why should the military care about some displaced skunk?”
The other shrugged. “Beats me. But I sure don’t want to be around when that little wood pussy wakes up.”
“We won’t be. That stuff will last an hour at least.”
In the back of the truck, however, a stubborn Sylon mind was already struggling against a sleepy skunk body. Moments later, beady black eyes popped open. Dizzily, Stinker struggled to his feet.
He felt around with his mind and found the two dog minds filled mainly with anger at being cooped up. He reached further, probing into the minds of the two humans in the cab. He was being taken to a place called the Pentagon, the headquarters for this nation’s military. Bad idea.
Quickly he reached through the bars of the cage and twisted open the lock. Wonderful, he thought, what clever skunk paws can do with a clever Sylon mind behind them.
Jumping out, he waddled to the Saint Bernard’s cage and opened it, doing the same for the gray mutt next to him. Then he jumped back into his own open cage and hissed at them both. They barked, pushed against their cage doors, and burst out. Stinker hissed and taunted. The dogs broke into a frenzy of barking and growling, but couldn’t get at the skunk—and knew enough not to try too hard.
“What on Earth is going on back there?” the driver asked. “I bet one of those mutts got a paw caught again. Told them we need new cages. Better check.”
He parked the truck and his partner got out, walked around back, and opened the door. The two big dogs looked at him for a split second, then bowled him over onto the sidewalk and tore down the street. He was just struggling up when a skunk landed with all four feet right on his stomach, hopped off, and disappeared into some bushes.
“This has been an outstandingly bad day,” the man said, staring up at the early evening sky.
It was dark when a tired, bedraggled skunk finished his trek through the alleys and parks of Washington back to the Air and Space Museum. The crowd was gone. Around the outdoor exhibit stretched a new fence. Its gate was open. His tail drooping with exhaustion, Stinker plodded toward his ship, then froze in its shadow. A man was standing there. The man in the unusual shiny outfit. The man Karen and Jonathan had called Trevor Conway.
He just stood there looking at the sleek silver ship. Stinker was about to peek into the man’s mind when another man came up behind the first and clapped a hand on his shoulder.
“So there you are, Trevor. Come on back to the reception. These Smithsonian people are really going all out. They may be cool space-science types, but one real movie star has turned them all to jelly.”
The other snorted. “Like one real spaceship would turn me to jelly. But you know, Vince, with this model it’s somehow not so hard to pretend. It’s a real beauty, isn’t it?”
“Guess so. And a surprise all right.”
“You mean, you didn’t know about it either?” Conway asked.
“Oh, you know those guys at the studio, always teasing you along.”
“Well, it hasn’t been very funny lately. I don’t mind telling you, Vince, I’ve been scared. Scared there wasn’t going to be a Star Raiders Ten, or if there were, scared I wouldn’t be cast in it. Too old, like some of the magazines are saying.”
“Nonsense, Trevor. Those are just rumors. Besides, even if they did let you go, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. You’re a world-famous actor. You could get any part you want.”
The actor shook his head. “That’s the
problem. There’s no other part I really want. I’m being unprofessional, I know, but Star Raiders has become more than a job for me. It’s a dream. As Alex Greystone I get to bring that dream to millions of people all over the world. But I get to live that dream a little myself.”
The other barked out a nervous laugh. “Sure. As the actor who plays Alex Greystone you get treated like royalty. Look at that lifetime NASA pass. It can get you in to watch shuttle launches whenever you want.”
“I don’t think you get it, Vince. It’s not the celebrity bit I mean, and I hate those launches—because it’s not me in those little ships. As Alex Greystone I can make generations of kids dream about going into space, and some of them will do it. But never me! All I have is the dream.”
“And a major acting career.”
“Vince, face it, my career is winding down. A few more movies at best, and I’m finished. What else do I have? I have no family. I have nothing except this dream of a universe I’ll never see.”
“Trevor, aren’t you a little old to act like a moody artist? You’re a big star, for crying out loud! Come on back in and act like one.”
Conway laughed. “Hey, doesn’t my age even allow me to be philosophical? Okay, I’ll be right in. But let me dream over this ship a couple of minutes more before I see it close up in the daylight and notice it’s only painted plywood.”
As Vince walked away, the actor rubbed an appreciative hand over the slick metal surface. He traced a finger along one tapering fin and tapped the side, listening to the chimelike ring.
Then he laughed and said to himself, “Get a grip, Trevor, old boy. You’re checking this baby out like something in a new-car showroom.”
Mentally clearing his throat, Stinker stepped out from the shadow of the ship. “Hey, mister,” he said into Conway’s mind, “have I got a deal for you!”
The actor spun around. The look on his face was like the one he’d had in Star Raiders Four when Alex Greystone saw the jelly beast rise out of the sinkhole.
11
Like in the Movies
They had been in that office for hours. Men and women in suits and uniforms had questioned them. Jonathan and Karen had said nothing. It had taken only a whispered exchange in a hallway for them to agree. They would tell these people nothing at all. Why should they? If it hadn’t been for them, Stinker would be alive. He’d be off in his sleek silver ship. He’d have the Ruby Slippers, and he’d save his people from war. But now that was all over. These murdering meddlers didn’t deserve to learn a thing.
Of course, Karen thought, as she sat in front of a desk ignoring another avalanche of questions, it would almost serve them right to learn how they’d really messed up things. Except that they wouldn’t believe it. Sure, a wacky hair ball space emperor wants Dorothy’s Ruby Slippers or he’ll beat up on a bunch of body-hopping space people. They’d never get it, particularly since the source had been a skunk. There’d be another cover-up, and if the two of them ever tried to tell the truth, they’d be branded as worse freaks than before.
Someone asked if they were hungry. She supposed she was. She didn’t feel much of anything. After a bit, some sandwiches were brought in. Karen took one look at hers and burst into tears. Peanut butter.
“Well, I can see you’re both tired,” Mr. Blimpton said awkwardly. For the moment he was the only questioner left in the room. “So let’s call it a night, shall we? There’re a couple of hotel rooms booked for you, and we can talk more in the morning.”
“Not in the morning, not ever,” Jonathan said. “We want to go home. Now.”
“Don’t be absurd, children,” Blimpton snapped, walking to the door. “There’s a lot we have to discuss yet—once you’re rested. Your parents have been called. They know you are safe and will be staying with us for a few days.”
“Hey, don’t we have some sort of rights?” Jonathan objected, angrily pushing back his glasses.
The only answer was a smile as Blimpton whisked them out of the room into a hallway.
“If only we still had the Ruby Slippers,” Karen whispered, “we could try clicking them together.”
“Anything’d be worth a try,” Jonathan muttered.
They started walking down the hall when they saw someone coming their way. Karen grabbed Jonathan’s arm. “Hey, isn’t that . . .?”
“Yeah, it is. And in full uniform, too.”
Trevor Conway, the actor, strode confidently toward them. “Why, Mr. Blimpton! Nice to see you again. We met at the last shuttle launch. Since I was in town, I thought I’d take advantage of my NASA pass and come visit your establishment here.”
“Ah, yes. Mr. Conway, we’re honored. It is a little late, but once I take care of these two young people I’ll be happy to show you around.”
“Well now,” Conway said, looking at Karen and Jonathan. “Don’t I recognize you two? I do! You’re the two who were on TV months ago with all that business about the hijacked shuttle and supposed creatures from space.”
“Yes, yes,” Blimpton said hurriedly, “that unfortunate hoax. But we have the shuttle back now and everything is fine.”
“Oh, surely it couldn’t all have been a hoax,” the actor said, putting his hands on Karen’s and Jonathan’s shoulders. “I’m absolutely honored to meet you two. Whatever your story is, I’m sure it’s fascinating. In fact, there’s nothing I’d rather do than have a chat with you. What say we stop in at the ice-cream parlor up the street?”
“Well . . . uh, sure,” Jonathan said. “I guess . ..”
“No, no. Sorry, Mr. Conway,” Blimpton interrupted. “These two are very busy at the moment. Perhaps another time.”
“Ah, but I won’t be here another time. Such a busy filming schedule. What say we just dash out for a quick ice cream and a chat? I noticed they have a special on peanut butter milk shakes. I have a friend who’s very fond of those.”
Karen’s expression fluttered between confusion and impossible hope. “Uh, yeah. Sounds great.”
“Too bad there isn’t time for it,” Blimpton said firmly. “Now, Jonathan, Karen, we need to go out this way, please.”
Conway kept his hands on the two children’s shoulders. “Well, if you’re going out, at least go up through the lobby. A couple of reporters and photographers came just to get some shots of Alex Greystone at the NASA office. I’m sure they’d love a shot of me with these two celebrities.”
“That’s absolutely out of the question!” Blimpton squeaked.
“No, what is absolutely out of the question is my leaving here without these two.” Firmly, he started shepherding them down the corridor leading to the lobby.
Jonathan glanced back and whispered, “Hey, Mr. Conway, he’s going for a phone.”
The actor spun around and burst into the office. Blimpton’s hand was on the telephone.
“Don’t do that, Blimpton. I’m armed, you know.”
The man’s hand drew back, then he laughed. “Armed? You mean that toy ray gun of yours? I think this role-playing has gotten a bit much for you, Conway.”
“No, not the movie prop,” Conway said, pulling a small flat red triangle from his pocket. “I mean the real thing. And I’ve even had a crash course on how to use it.”
Blimpton snorted. “A guitar pick? You’ve blown it, Conway.” He lifted the receiver.
The actor thumbed a control, and a beam of pink light shot from the triangle and melted the phone.
“Come on, kids. Time’s wasting.”
The three turned and raced up the hall.
A minute later they walked into the lobby. “There he is!” a reporter yelled as a photographer snapped a picture. “Are those the important people you wanted us to meet?”
“Yes, you may remember them from that incident with the space shuttle last fall. It was, in fact, hijacked by a stranded UFO pilot.”
More cameras clicked. Suddenly, several security guards strode up. “We’re sorry, but we have orders to detain these individuals. The press must leave
now.”
“No way!” a reporter yelled. “Is someone trying to cover up something here?”
“Yes!” Jonathan shouted. “Just like before! They’re trying to cover up a lot!”
Just then Vince, from Conway’s studio, burst in. “Trevor, your limo driver said he’d left you here.” He stopped and looked around at the reporters and the guards with their drawn guns. “What’s going on?”
“A lot of deception is going on,” the actor answered. “What I said this afternoon was wrong. That model is not from Star Raiders Ten. The rumors are probably right. If there are to be more Star Raiders movies, they probably aren’t planned with Trevor Conway in them.”
“Hey, Trevor,” Vince said, “even if that’s true, it’s no reason for pulling some crazy publicity stunt.”
“True. The real story is the cover-up of a true-life space drama. Last fall an alien crash-landed here, took the form of a skunk, was attacked by other aliens, and escaped in a space shuttle.”
“Preposterous! Insane!” Mr. Blimpton shouted, while reporters scribbled frantically. “I’m afraid Mr. Conway has found the rumored end of his career too much for him and has lapsed into a fantasy world. And these two children are simply dupes. Now, if you will please . . .”
“Blimpton,” the actor barked in his best Alex Greystone voice, “is this little space weapon a fantasy, too?” He held up the flat red triangle.
“Stop him!” Blimpton shrieked at the guards. “He’s dangerous!”
“I can be,” Conway said, aiming his weapon at the base of a tall metal sculpture at the side of the lobby. Its bottom section melted away. The metal tower toppled like a tree, smashing into a plate glass window. People ran, screaming.
Stunned, the actor stood staring at the weapon. Behind him, Karen tugged on his arm. “Mr. Conway, this is our chance. Time to do a real Hollywood escape.”
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