War on Whimsy

"I want you to attack on the count of three," said Nicola into the radio.

  "Four," interrupted Princess Petronella. "Nobody ever does anything important on the count of three. You do it on the count of four."

  "On Earth we--" began Nicola. "Oh, forget it. Fine." She clicked the button on the radio again. "On the count of four, I want you to attack. One . . ."

  "Four?" Greta's cranky voice spoke through the radio. "Don't you mean three?"

  Henry spoke up. "On the Planet of Whimsy we do things on the count of twenty-two. It's such a pleasing number."

  Oh for heaven's sake.

  "Attack! " cried Nicola. "Attack now! "

  CHARTER 36

  Nicola held her breath.This could be highly embarrassing if it didn't work.

  "Nothing is happening," said Princess Petronella.

  "Wait. Listen."

  First there was a sound like galloping hooves.

  "Horses?" said the princess. "Where did you get horses from?"

  "It's not horses," said Nicola. "It's Katie's musical platoon. It's actually drums."

  "No, they're real! Look! It's a whole army!"

  Thousands of soldiers on horseback were galloping over the ridge of the mountains toward the valley below. The soldiers wore scarlet coats over white pants. They carried bayonets that caught the light. The horses were fine-looking creatures with black shiny coats. It was an amazing and terrifying scene. Blood-curdling cries rang out across the mountain.

  "Chaa-aaarge! "

  "We will never surrender until we beat the offender! "

  "There is nothing flimsy about the soldiers of Whimsy!"

  "Where did you get a real army from?" marveled the princess.

  "It's not real," said Nicola, although she could hardly believe it wasn't real herself. "That's a painting by Henry Sweet's platoon. They've got a huge canvas up there and they're shaking it to make it look like they're moving."

  "But they're real voices!"

  "They're actors," said Nicola. "It's Sean's theatrical platoon. They're reading a script by Greta's writers and poets. This is a show. A huge show by the people of Whimsy."

  Nicola picked up the radio again. "Shimlara? Are they falling for it?"

  Shimlara answered immediately.

  "They're in shock! Most of their minds are completely blank! Dad said one of the platoon captains just thought to himself, We're in trouble."

  "You can't tell me that enormous tank isn't real!" said the princess in disbelief.

  A massive black tank appeared on the crest of the mountain. It was about twenty times the size of the Volcomanian tanks and seemed to black out half the sky.

  "It's a sculpture," said Nicola. "Tyler designed it and the Whimsy sculptors built it."

  The tank fired. The sound was deafening. The sky was illuminated with shooting flames and clouds of smoke.

  "Sound effects and fireworks!" yelled Nicola over the noise to the princess.

  "I approve!" cried the princess, jumping with joy. "As your figurehead, I approve!"

  Shimlara's gleeful voice came over the radio. "Half the soldiers are thinking about surrendering. The other half want their mothers."

  Nicola took up her binoculars.

  Some of the Volcomanian soldiers had dropped their weapons and were running for cover. Others were running to their own tanks.

  Oh dear.

  Nicola quickly picked up the radio. "Come in, Mully. Mully, come in."

  Mully answered immediately, her voice clear and crisp.

  "This is Mully, Nicola.The United Aunts and I are behind enemy lines and we have successfully achieved our mission objective. Over."

  "You mean their tanks won't work?"

  "Correct. Over."

  "Wow! That's amazing! How did you do that?"

  Mully's voice changed back to her ordinary mom voice. "Maybe I could tell you that later, honey, once we've actually won the battle?"

  "Oh yes, of course! Thanks, Mully! Over and out."

  Nicola picked up her binoculars. She could see the Volcomanians slamming frustrated fists against the sides of the tanks.

  Shimlara's voice came over the radio.

  "They're freaking out! They don't know what to do!"

  Her voice changed abruptly. "Bad news! Dad just read one of the Volcomanian captain's minds. He's starting to suspect it's a trick. He's noticed the soldiers on horseback aren't getting closer."

  Nicola felt a shot of adrenaline. It was time for their final move.

  "Come in, Sean," she said.

  "Yeah, Nic?"

  "We need Mrs. Mania right now."

  "Gotcha."

  Nicola hung up the radio and bit her lip.

  Shimlara's voice came over the radio again, filled with trepidation. "Nicola! The suspicious captain is about to order his men to charge up the mountain!"

  At that moment, a familiar voice rang out across the valley.

  "Soldiers of Volcomania! This is Mrs. Mania, your commander in chief! I order you to lay down your weapons!"

  "Why is she saying that?" asked the princess.

  "It's not really Mrs. Mania. It's Poppy the waitress," explained Nicola. "She's an actress. Of course, we had to make it look like they were losing the battle first before we used her. Otherwise it would have looked too suspicious."

  "She sounds exactly like her," said the princess. "I approve!"

  Shimlara's voice crackled over the radio again. "They're falling for it!"

  Nicola looked through the binoculars and saw the soldiers carefully placing their weapons on the ground with confused expressions on their faces.

  "Now put your fists in your armpits and flap your arms like chickens! "

  That was obviously Sean's idea. Was it going too far? Nicola grinned as she saw the Volcomanian soldiers obediently flapping their arms.

  "Now say cluck cluck--"

  "STOP RIGHT THERE! "

  Another voice boomed across the valley.

  Nicola clapped her hand to her mouth.

  "Have you got two actresses playing Mrs. Mania?" asked Princess Petronella.

  "No," said Nicola frantically. "That's the real Mrs. Mania!"

  Mrs. Mania and her son had been taken to observe the battle from a convenient tower overlooking the valley (normally used as a poet's retreat) under the guard of the released prisoners. How had she escaped? There had been at least fifty prisoners keeping watch over her!

  Nicola's radio crackled with worried cries from the other members of the Space Brigade.

  "What's going on, Nicola?"

  "Is that the real Mrs. Mania?"

  "Should the fake Mrs. Mania keep talking?"

  "YOU HAVE BEEN DECEIVED BY SMOKE AND MIRRORS, YOU FOOLS! THERE IS NO WHIMSIAN ARMY! "

  "Mrs. Mania is free!" said Princess Petronella.

  She pointed over Nicola's shoulder.

  Mrs. Mania was marching down the mountain path from the Lookout Tower in her stiletto heels, a huge megaphone in her hand. Nicola lifted her binoculars and adjusted them to focus on Mrs. Mania's face. She was smiling triumphantly. Her son, Marty Mania, walked alongside her, looking mortified.

  A group of familiar-looking people stomped behind Mrs. Mania and her son. The guards from the prison camp! They must have overcome the prisoners. But how had they escaped from the food hall?

  I shouldn't have left the food hall unguarded,thought Nicola. That was a mistake. A stupid mistake! I just didn't want to take Greta's advice.

  Mrs. Mania lifted her megaphone again.

  "PICK THOSE WEAPONS BACK UP! "

  "As your figurehead," said Princess Petronella to Nicola, "I have to tell you that I don't approve of this at all."

  "CHARGE!"

  CHAPTER 37

  Nicola turned away from Mrs. Mania and looked through the binoculars at the Volcomanian soldiers below. They were charging up the mountain like wounded bulls, weapons held high, their scaly-skinned faces red with rage and humiliation.

  "Should we surrender?" Henry's trem
bling voice came over the radio. "I think we should surrender!"

  We were so, so close! If it weren't for my stupid mistake--

  Mistake.

  Nicola's hand flew to her neck, where she kept her limited edition gold button. What did Sean say? To unbutton your mistake, just hold the button between your fingertips and say . . .

  Nicola put the button between her fingertips and said out loud, "Let that moment retake, so I may unbutton my mistake."

  The world went black.

  The air rushed from her lungs. She was flying backward through something like a long railway tunnel. There was a thin shrieking sound in her ears and a strange smell like the burning of rubber in her nostrils.

  Oh my goodness! Is this SAFE?

  "Nicola?"

  Nicola blinked. She was standing outside the food hall with the released prisoners, the Space Brigade, and Henry Sweet. Greta was looking at Nicola expectantly.

  "I said,should we leave someone to guard the food hall?"

  Nicola couldn't believe it. It was earlier that same day. She'd actually traveled backward in time! This was her chance to fix the mistake and make everything right!

  She threw her arms around Greta.

  "Yes! That's a fantastic idea!"

  Greta looked appalled by Nicola's sudden burst of affection. "Okay, okay."

  "And I think someone should check all the guards' pockets," added Nicola. "One of the guards might have a pocket knife. It would be disastrous if they escaped."

  "Good idea," said Sean. "We'll do it now." He went back into the food hall with a few of the other prisoners. A few moments later he came back out holding a penknife.

  "That bully of a guard had it in his back pocket!" he said. "I bet he might have been able to get one of his meaty hands to it and cut himself free! What made you think of it?"

  "You'll never guess--"

  Before she had a chance to explain, the world went black and Nicola was flying again. Only this time she was flying forward with that same shrieking sound and burning smell.

  "Nicola?"

  Nicola gasped, her head spinning. She was back on the mountain again standing next to Princess Petronella. She put her hand to her neck. Her limited edition gold button was gone.

  "What's the matter?" said Princess Petronella. "Your face has gone a strange color."

  Nicola looked over her shoulder and up at the Lookout Tower.

  "Is she free?"

  "Who?"

  "The real Mrs. Mania?"

  "I don't think so," said the Princess. "Should she be? I wouldn't approve of that. Isn't she safely tied up in the tower? Oh, look, they're still clucking like chickens! Mrs. Mania must be writhing in agony!"

  Nicola lifted her binoculars and watched the army below clucking like chickens. For a moment she was confused, and then her mind cleared. It had worked! She'd traveled back through time, fixed her mistake, and made everything right again! And best of all, she'd done it on her own: calmly, quickly, efficiently. Princess Petronella obviously had no memory of Mrs. Mania escaping. It was just like it had never happened. Nobody even had to know she'd ever made that mistake.

  Nicola's horrendous feeling of guilt vanished and the relief was blissful. She wanted to run around in circles, punching both fists in the air like a soccer player who had just scored the winning goal. She touched the empty spot around her neck where the limited edition gold button had hung. What an incredible, wondrous piece of technology. She would have to send the people of Shobble the most grateful thank-you note she had ever written.

  The fake Mrs. Mania's voiced boomed out across the valley. Poppy was doing an excellent job.

  "Now form a conga line and dance up the mountain toward the Lookout Tower! "

  Nicola watched in amazement as the soldiers formed a conga line with their hands on one another's waists.

  She picked up the radio. "Shimlara? What are the soldiers thinking?"

  "They think Mrs. Mania has finally lost her mind," answered Shimlara. "But they're all happy the war is over. None of them really believed in it, anyway. They all secretly liked the Planet of Whimsy."

  Katie's musical platoon struck up a tune and the Volcomanian army began to dance up the mountain, kicking their legs and swinging their hips in perfect time to the music.

  "They're quite good dancers," remarked Princess Petronella.

  Nicola picked up the radio again. "Everyone report to the Lookout Tower to watch Mrs. Mania squirm! It looks like Whimsy has won the war!"

  There were excited cries from the Space Brigade and a strange sound that Nicola was pretty sure was Henry Sweet bursting into tears.

  She and the princess hurried up the path toward the tower. Night was beginning to fall and Whimsy's jewelry box of stars was slowly emerging in the sky.

  She and the princess reached the tower and hurried up a circular staircase to where Mrs. Mania and Marty Mania were sitting, still tied to their chairs, looking out the window at the conga line of soldiers snaking its way up the mountain in the starlight. The released prisoners who had been guarding Mrs. Mania were cheering as if they were at a football game.

  Nicola had expected Mrs. Mania's face to be red with rage, but instead it was dead white, as if she were seriously ill.

  "You call this winning a battle?" she spat out, when she saw Nicola. "I've never seen anything more disgusting or deceitful!"

  "Oh, but bombing a preschool is okay?" said Nicola.

  "This is making a mockery of war! You had some foolish little actress pretending to be me! That's against the law! And now you've got my soldiers dancing! That's so disrespectful!"

  "Your soldiers seem to be enjoying it," pointed out Princess Petronella.

  "And as for you, young lady." Mrs. Mania thrust an angry finger at Princess Petronella. "What disgusting behavior for a guest! I shall be writing to the king and queen of Globagaskar."

  "Why don't you?" said the princess airily. "My parents will be proud of me!"

  "Anyway," said Nicola. "I assume you will now honor your commitment and withdraw your troops."

  "Never!" screamed Mrs. Mania.

  "I beg your pardon?" said Nicola. "But we won!"

  At that moment the rest of the Space Brigade, Henry Sweet, Mully, Georgio, and the now rather disheveled-looking United Aunts came into the room, all of them flushed with victory and slapping one another on the back.

  "I don't care if you won or not! I shall fight this war until the day I die!" roared Mrs. Mania. She bounced around so much on her chair that it nearly toppled over.

  There was silence for a few seconds as everyone in the room stared at the strange, demented woman.

  The United Aunts sighed, folded their arms across their chests, and shook their heads disappointedly.

  "That's it, I know the United Aunts disapprove of violence but I'm giving her a good rap across the knuckles with my wooden spoon," said the green-skinned United Aunt.

  "If I were to paint this woman," said Henry, "I would give her the head of a viper."

  "I'm so sick of her! Let's just throw her out of the tower window!" said a Volcomanian war protester who had been imprisoned in the camp, and was obviously still not very happy about it.

  The room erupted as everyone argued over the best thing to do next.

  And then the only person in the room with any power over Mrs. Mania spoke up.

  CHARTER 38

  "Mother," said Marty Mania.

  He spoke quietly and forcefully. His soft, plump face became hard. He seemed twenty years older.

  "That is enough. You are embarrassing me. You are embarrassing the planet of Volcomania."

  "Marty, you don't understand." Mrs. Mania squirmed in her chair.

  "No, Mother, I don't! I never understood the point of this war, anyway! What has Whimsy ever done to us?"

  "It's simple geography! Whimsy is not its own planet. It's a suburb of Volcomania. Why should they get all this beauty to themselves? Look at all that fertile soil out there!" Mrs. Mania
jerked her head out the window at the velvet green soil. "They don't do anything with it, except lie around making up their pathetic poems. Then they come whining to us when they run out of food. We could farm that land! We would make something of this place. If we had Whimsy, Volcomania would be the most successful planet in the galaxy! Don't you see, Marty, I'm doing this for Volcomania!"

  "But it's not what the Whimsian people want!" said Marty.

  "Who cares about them?! They're annoying! So impractical, so . . . whimsical."

  "I think we should work with the Whimsian people," said Marty. "I have some ideas about how we could help them and they could help us."

  Henry Sweet nodded at Marty. "I'd like to hear those ideas, young man!"

  "Well, my dear son, if you were in charge of Volcomania then you could be as chummy as you wanted with Mr. Sweet," said Mrs. Mania. "However--"

  "That's the thing, Mother," said Marty. "I was talking to one of the United Aunts, the one representing Earth."

  Nicola's great-aunt Annie gave a cheery wiggle of her fingers.

  "And she said that according to the United Aunts Intergalactic Convention for Sensible Governance of Planets, if a planet's leader is seen to act in a way that is deemed to be foolish, bad-mannered, or violent, then a close family member may apply to the United Aunts to automatically take over the leadership."

  "What in the world are you telling me this for?" said Mrs. Mania.

  "I put in an application to take over the leadership," said Marty. "The United Aunts approved it."

  Nicola's great-aunt Annie held up an application form with a huge APPROVED stamp across it. Nicola had never been prouder of her aunt.

  "So you're no longer president of Volcomania," said Marty. "I am."

  "I beg your pardon?" said Mrs. Mania. Her voice had become quite hoarse.

  "You heard me, Mother. I'm the new president. And my first act as president will be to honor the commitment you made. We lost the battle. So we will now formally recognize Whimsy as an independent planet, withdraw our troops, and promise never to declare war on Whimsy again. If someone wouldn't mind untying me, I'll make an announcement."

  Sean leaped forward to cut the ropes around Marty with the penknife he'd taken from the guard. Marty stood up, stretched, and shook Sean's hand.

  "But--I--Marty--this--you--we--how--why . . ." Mrs. Mania's voice drifted away. Her face seemed to collapse inward. A lock of her hair fell in her eyes.

  She was a broken woman. Nicola could hardly bear to look at her.

  Marty patted his mother on the shoulder. "It's okay, Mom," he said softly. Then he turned to Henry. "Will you join me on the balcony? We can tell our people together that the war is over."