The monster was right near her, but Lily couldn’t even think about it—no!—so she just squinched her eyes closed, hysterically calculating that if the Horsehead Nebula is fifteen hundred light-years from Earth and one light-year is about six trillion miles, then . . .
Lily shivered. She was NINE AND FIFTEEN ZEROS MILES from her mother and her—
She opened her eyes and saw about twelve knees.
“Aha!” said the Dirrillill. “Dooby dooby dooby doo.”
The girls pushed away from him as fast as they could.
But there was nowhere else to go. They were on the edge of the roof. Lily looked down. It was about a hundred stories to the ground. Instant death if they fell.
The Dirrillill stalked toward them. Several arms held the canopy of force field up so he could get a clear shot at them. He had a gun.
“I froze your friend because I need him. I’m not sure I need you.” He clicked a knob on the gun. “So let’s try disintegration, shall we?”
He did not make the mistake some bad guys make: talking a lot before firing. Though he had many mouths, he just didn’t have that much to say anymore.
So he just shot the girls there and then.
WHAT GOES UP
. . . Except that Katie had yanked down a fold of force field just in time between them and the monster. So the shots crackled and were absorbed.
Lily stumbled on the edge of the roof. Just under her heel was a drop to the death. Her breath was too fast. Her head was reeling.
The Dirrillill cleared some throats. He said, “All right.”
Lily couldn’t believe that this was it. . . . About to meet her end! Nine quadrillion miles from home!
“Maybe I can’t hit you behind that force field,” said the Dirrillill.
“Nope,” said Katie smugly. “You can’t.”
“But I can destroy the roof you’re standing on, ha ha.”
The Dirrillill fired near their feet.
BLAM!
The corner of the roof disintegrated. The girls screamed as they fell off the top of the fortress.
Silence.
The lip of the fortress was gone.
The girls were gone with it.
Where they had stood a second before, there was nothing but purple sky and violet tiger stripes of cloud.I
The Dirrillill smiled and smiled and smiled. All over him, he was grins.
Having destroyed Katie and Lily, he wobbled back inside to start working on Jasper Dash.
* * *
I You lie on the ground by the lake and watch the clouds drift over like a slow, grazing air raid.
Once, Busby Spence lay five feet from where you are now. There was more grass there then. He read there for a long time, trying not to think about things too much.
Unfortunately, as you know, this yard was always full of ants.
THE ANGRIEST PLACE MAT IN THE GALAXY
The Dirrillill lumbered back into the kitchen. Jasper Dash was still frozen in place, unable to move, unable to yell out to Katie and Lily.
The creature smiled. “I have destroyed your little friends. Lulu and Kaylie. I blew up the ground they were standing on. They fell to their death. A pity they didn’t have a hand or two more to grab a railing. But then, Kaylie never did like my extra hands. Remember her, my boy? When she was alive, ha ha?”
Jasper Dash’s head swam in horror. He wanted to fight—to scream—to hurt the Dirrillill, like he’d never wanted to hurt anything. But he couldn’t move.
The Dirrillill thumped over to Jasper and picked him up, grunting. He dropped the frozen Boy Technonaut on the kitchen counter. He straightened out Jasper’s arms and legs. The joints creaked like cheap hinges.
“You must learn to submit,” the creature of many eyes and mouths demanded. “You will serve me. You will go back to Earth and enlarge that teleporter booth so I can go through with my gear. And Earth will be the first world to be captured by the new Dirrillill Empire. My new Dirrillill Empire.”
Jasper tried to budge an inch. He tried to shift one arm, then the other. He couldn’t even grunt with effort.
“Do you see,” said the Dirrillill, “you are nothing more than furniture to me, ha ha. I may use you like I do a chair or a table.”
The alien trundled over and picked up some of the food. He brought it back to Jasper and laid it out on top of Jasper’s belly, face, and knees, as if the Boy Technonaut was just a bumpy place mat.
The Dirrillill said, “Now, isn’t this a quaint way to dine? Off a human being?”
The alien picked up a forkful of some hideous, furry, gravied beast. It dripped its sauce on the Boy Technonaut’s faceplate.
As one mouth chewed the morsel, another said to Jasper, “You’re not important to me at all. I can always do without anyone.”
He ate his feast on Jasper’s face.
It was many courses. Hands shoved different dangling globs into waiting mouths. The Dirrillill, being somewhat rude, leaned his elbows on the table while he ate. That meant six elbows, all of them pinning Jasper down. Jasper couldn’t shift to make himself more comfortable. He couldn’t roll away. He had to just sit there with Styrofoam plates on his belly and two sodas perched on his shanks—and these were supersize sodas.
When the Dirrillill was done with his disgusting degustation, he announced, “Now for the pièce de résistance, ha ha. Maybe I will eat you yourself. Yes?” He reached down with two of his hands and began to gently pull at Jasper’s helmet. “For that, I am afraid,” said the Dirrillill, “I will have to remove your oxygen mask. Sorry: The atmosphere on my planet will not agree with you. You will choke and die. But luckily, you are frozen, so I will not hear a miserable peep out of you.”
The alien started to unclip Jasper’s air hose.
DOLORES DASH TAKES A STAND
Mrs. Dash sat in a chair at Jasper’s desk. She watched the Garxx of Krilm crawl all over the teleporter booth, making whispery noises to one another. They were trying to figure out how it worked.
“Can I get you boys anything?” Mrs. Dash asked. “Root beers? Finger sandwiches?”
The Garxx of Krilm were not interested in snacks.
Mrs. Dash was sick of waiting. She folded her hands together and squeezed them very tight. She opened Jasper’s desk drawer and pushed around the erasers with her thumb.
Mrs. Dash felt sick with guilt. She should have stopped him from going somehow.
She thought about what a terrible mother she was. Now, as a result, her son was off looking for a father among a race of cruel alien invaders. And his friends were probably trapped with him.
She said, in a voice that was almost angry, “Can’t we just go through the teleporter as it is—right now—and rescue the children? The girls must be there too. You frightened them away, appearing with your . . . with your big, big heads. Can’t we just go save the children from these Dirrillillim—and then you boys can figure out all the secrets of intergalactic travel afterward?”
One of the Garxx of Krilm stood up and said, “Please, patience, Mother of Dash. The Dirrillillim will be waiting on the other side with weapons and trickery.”
“Well, how is all this”—Mrs. Dash gestured furiously at their tinkering—“going to help?”
But the Garxx of Krilm did not answer her questions. They turned back to the booth and kept inspecting it, speaking their hissy, whispering language.
“Do you understand?” said Mrs. Dash. “I tried to protect my son, and I failed, and now he’s more than a thousand light-years away. I tried to protect my son’s friends, and I failed again, and now they are also, presumably, more than a thousand light-years away. I do not want to sit here while you tinker. Is this understood?”
The aliens did not speak to her.
But she couldn’t wait any longer to act.
She stood up from her son’s desk chair. She announced to the Garxx, “I am going.”
They turned to her in surprise. They said, “You shouldn’t.”
The
y said, “The Dirrillillim will be waiting for you.”
They warned her, “You will suffer the same fate as your son.”
And Mrs. Dash proclaimed, “That’s exactly what I want.” She told the Garxx, “I’m off to get my oxygen gear.”
She was back in ten minutes, dressed in an old fifties space suit, from back when women’s space suits were pink and had little skirts.
“This is a mistake, Mother of Dash.”
She declared, “Don’t worry about me. I’ve been hiding in this house for years. But I am a scientist, and like all scientists, I am trained to deflect heat rays, escape space dragons, and safely land a lifeboat capsule on the cooler parts of the sun. Now. Off to Zeblion III. Any of you coming with me?”
The Garxx gawked.
They said, somewhat nervously, “Well, why don’t we stay here?”
“We’ll guard the teleporter booth.”
“It would be awful if someone tried to pop through.”
“So we’ll just stay put.”
“Hmm,” said Mrs. Dash. “I see, boys. Scared.”
“Scared? Scared? The Garxx of Krilm? We laugh at fear!”
Mrs. Dash said tartly, “Well, if over your laughter, you could clear away from the booth, I’d be grateful to you.”
She stepped into the teleporter. It was pretty self-explanatory. It was already set for Zeblion III. There was a big lever to pull. Mrs. Dash saluted the Garxx of Krilm and pulled the lever.
The Garxx watched her flicker and disappear.
The teleporter was empty.
One of the Garxx said, “The Mother of Dash is gone.”
“She will not be back,” said another.
“The Dirrillillim will kill her.”
The Garxx all looked at one another. Then one said, “Good. Now let us get back to examining this remarkable teleporter machine. That’s what we came for.”
“That’s why we followed those Dirrillillian message beams to Earth.”
“That’s why we sought out Jasper Dash.”
“In an hour we will have figured out the secrets of teleportation.”
“Then we can start our crime spree.”
“We can use teleporters like this to appear in intergalactic banks.”
“And in grand mansions in the space stations that circle Saturn.”
“Our treasure chests will be filled with precious metals forged in the Big Bang.”
“Our saucer will be detailed in gold.”
“We will have warehouses full of diamonds crushed into being under alien atmospheres and stupendous gravities.”
“Our pockets will be stuffed with precious laruvium, the most unstable element in the universe.”
“Yes.”
“Indeed.”
“That will be great.”
They nodded their huge, finned helmets.
This was, in fact, the plan of the Garxx of Krilm, who were wanted crooks all over the galaxy. They had intercepted the beams sent across space not to help other worlds, but to find out the secret of teleportation so they could carry out their nefarious plans. And they were only about an hour from reaching their goal.
And while they talked about it, Mrs. Dash was being flung across the universe—fifteen hundred light-years—nine quadrillion miles—far, far from Earth, her island home.I
* * *
I When Busby Spence’s father got home from the war, discharged, Busby and his mother were all dressed up. They went to the train station to meet him. Busby had to wear a bow tie. They had plans to go out to a big dinner at a restaurant and eat all the things they normally couldn’t eat because of rationing.
Busby’s father got off the train at three forty-five p.m. He was still wearing his uniform. Busby’s mother went and hugged her husband. Busby’s father did not smile or laugh.
Busby felt shy. He hadn’t seen his father for two years. Busby’s father didn’t look very good. He looked pale and his face was thick from medication. One of his hands was red and covered with scars.
His father just said, “Hi, Buzz,” as if he were coming home from work and there was nothing special about the day. He asked Busby’s mother, “Do you have the car?” He picked up his duffel bag.
That was it.
Busby was confused. He wanted a big bear hug, like fathers gave their sons in movies. He wanted his dad to shout, “How you been, chief?” or, “Missed you so much, old sport!”
His father was already walking away, down the platform, carrying his duffel bag.
When they got home, Busby’s father didn’t ask to hear what had been happening. He didn’t tell any stories about the things he’d seen blown up. He stood for a while in each room of the house. He walked down to the lake, trudging through the snow, and he looked across the ice.
When he came back inside, Busby’s mother said, “We planned a real special evening. We’re going to Dana’s Cuddleside for dinner.”
Busby’s father just shook his head. He said, “I got to sleep for a while. Don’t wake me up.”
He went upstairs, and they could hear him crying.
Busby and his mother just sat on either side of the table, staring at each other, pretending not to hear.
Busby’s father didn’t come down that night. They canceled their plans at Dana’s Cuddleside.
Busby went to bed and read about Jasper Dash hunting Nazis on the ocean floor, deep down where everything is blind or glows.
LATE FOR DINNER
Just as the Dirrillill was about to ease Jasper’s helmet off his head and bite into the boy’s skull, there was a loud beeping sound.
The Dirrillill rushed over to a panel and touched it.
“Someone else has arrived from your teleporter!” he said. “Your delightful mother, perhaps.” He chuckled to himself. “I’ve got to go check the screens and see who showed up for your welcome home party without RSVP’ing.”
Jasper lay there helplessly. There were still Big Gulp drinks on his knees.
The Dirrillill said, “Don’t worry. I’m not going to eat you. Nothing doing, ha ha. I would never eat you until I’m done using you. I am just trying to be convincing. You will want to help me fix that teleporter on Earth. There are lots of ways to convince you. I’ve already killed your two best friends. And now I suspect your dear momsy is here with us on Zeblion III. I won’t destroy her—if you agree to help me conquer Earth. She’ll make an excellent hostage. So: I’ll pop up to my control room to check if it’s her. You think carefully about who you want to save: your mother or your planet. Which do you love better, my son? Hmm?”
Then he left the room, humming happily, while Jasper lay on the counter, still unable to move.
A FROZEN ENTRÉE THINKS ABOUT THE STARS
Jasper Dash, frozen, stared out the window. He could move nothing. Fifteen minutes passed. He couldn’t blink. His eyes were burning. He stared at the stars. They could barely be seen past the glare of violet dust.
Back on Earth, the stars seemed friendly. It didn’t matter that they were far away. The stars seemed comfortable, and the Milky Way, spread across the sky, seemed like home. He knew facts about them. He had stood on his porch with his mother on thousands of nights, and they had spotted comets and dying suns and newborn worlds.
Now he was looking up at the same galaxy, but nothing seemed friendly. The stars, after all, were not the smiling, long-lashed pointy fellows stitched onto his baby blankets years ago. They weren’t singing anyone songs. They were just chemical reactions, something burning, energy yoked. Everything was cold. There was more emptiness in the universe than stuff. Worlds were just tiny clots of dying warmth in between those infinitely chilly spaces where there was nothing at all.
Jasper’s mother had taught him about the stars and about the dinosaurs and about everything else. That’s why Earth and all its sciences seemed comfortable, like home, even if the sun seared and the dinosaurs snapped and tore.
The words of awful Uncle Dirrillill rang in his ears: Your mother or your pl
anet. Which do you love better, my son?
Jasper struggled. He gagged. He couldn’t move—but he had to.
COMPANY FOR DINNER
Several rooms above, the Dirrillill was looking at a floating image. There was Jasper’s party with its sad streamers and collapsed cake. There was Jasper’s mother, standing in the doorway, looking out onto the bleak surface of Zeblion III.
She had tried to tape up the “Welcome Home, Jasper Dash” banner, too. As the Dirrillill watched, grinning with many mouths, the dusty tape gave way again, and the greeting slumped to the floor.
Meanwhile, down in the kitchen, Jasper heard a loud beep. He tried to turn his head to see what it was, but of course he could not.
Just out of the corner of his eye—where he could barely make anything out—just there, the screen connected with the food hatch clicked on. Someone was down there, standing by the door.
Two forms. Blurry, because he couldn’t move his eyes to look directly at them.
But they were smudges that seemed a lot like Katie and Lily.
SOME SCIENTIFIC THINGS HAPPEN
“Katie and Lily?!?” you might say.
You might say, “I thought they fell to their deaths!”
Not exactly.
They were blown off the roof by the blast, yes. And yes, they fell—and they saw the rocky ground shooting up toward them—and screamed—and spread out their arms—and tumbled—
And felt the old, heavy force field scraping against them—
And grabbed onto it.
They grabbed onto the force field and clung, like mice digging their claws into a shower curtain.
Oh, come on. It’s totally scientific. This kind of thing happens with force fields all the time. If you can’t pierce them, then you must be able to grab onto big bunches of them like they’re an old canvas tarp thrown over someone’s motorboat for the winter.
It’s PHYSICS.
They didn’t move. They just hung there.
He Laughed With His Other Mouths Page 10
