War on Whimsy, Page 6

  Suddenly another box caught Nicola's eye.

  "Is that what I think it is?" said Nicola. "Yes, yes, it is! It's hot ShobbleChoc from the Planet of Shobble!" She opened the box and saw rows of steaming mugs.

  "I wonder how they keep it hot during transportation," said Tyler, as he helped himself to a mug, but then he stopped talking and drank. Hot chocolate from Shobble did that to you. It was so blissfully delicious, you couldn't think of anything except hot chocolate.

  Half an hour later, the rest of the Space Brigade woke up to find a table set with a white tablecloth, and a strange and wonderful breakfast. There were Tyler's scrambled eggs, together with an array of unrecognizable, imported food from other planets. And of course, next to each plate was a mug of hot ShobbleChoc.

  "Well done, you guys," said Sean, who was always generous with praise when it came to his stomach.

  As they all sat around the table eating their breakfast and listening to the sounds of volcano eruptions, they talked about the day ahead.

  "I guess you'll have to drive the bus, Tyler," said Nicola. Tyler was definitely their most qualified person when it came to flying, driving, or even piloting hot-air balloons.

  "Yeah," said Tyler. He sounded uncertain.

  "If you can fly a spaceship," said Katie, "I'm pretty sure you could drive an ordinary school bus."

  "I'm sure I could do it," said Tyler. "I've watched our school bus driver and I think I'd be a better driver than him. The only thing is, I don't think my legs will reach the pedals."

  "So that means the person with the longest legs will have to drive it," said Greta.

  They all turned to look at Shimlara, who was about a head taller than their school bus driver.They were all thinking about the time she had flown them in her helicopter to the Rainbow Palace to kidnap Princess Petronella. It had been a very scary flight.

  "Maybe we should all wear crash helmets," said Sean.

  Shimlara looked down at her untouched plate of breakfast and her face crumpled. They all stared as tears began to slip down her face.

  Sean was horrified. "I was only joking!" Shimlara wasn't normally the sensitive type.

  Shimlara took a deep, shaky breath. "It's not you," she said. "I just suddenly remembered that Mom tried to talk to me the other day about the War on Whimsy. She asked if I would like to come along to a meeting. I told her I would rather die and couldn't she talk about something interesting for once? Wasn't that the most horrible thing to say! And now she's been kidnapped and who knows if we'll be able to save her."

  "That was a pretty horrible thing to say to your mother," agreed Greta, as if she'd never said anything unkind in her life. "You probably really hurt her feelings."

  "Greta!" said Katie. "It's all right, Shimlara. I think mothers are pretty forgiving about things like that. I know my mother is."

  As if Katie would ever say anything mean to her mother, thought Nicola. She said out loud, "And we are going to find your family, Shimlara. I guarantee it."

  "That's actually pretty irresponsible of you to say, Nicola," said Greta. "I mean, nobody can guarantee that. We've got to go into a war zone and we don't have any idea where they are on the Planet of Whimsy. Be honest. This mission is probably doomed."

  "Greta! " said everybody at the same time.

  "What?" Greta looked around at the cranky expressions on everybody's faces.

  Nicola sighed. It was true, she couldn't guarantee they would find the Gorgioskios, but wasn't it better to try and give Shimlara some hope?

  She changed the subject. "Well, I guess we should see what clothes JJ-11 left for us to wear. Oh, and we'd better work out our roles."

  "What do you mean, roles?" said Sean.

  "Well, if we're pretending to be a news crew, then you know, one of us should be the camera operator, somebody else should look after sound. That sort of thing. Oh, and one of us should be the actual journalist who does the interviewing."

  She tried to make the last part sound casual.

  Sean grinned. "And I bet you want to be the reporter, hey, Nic?"

  "Oh, well, not necessarily," said Nicola, although that was exactly the role she wanted. "Maybe it would be better if Shimlara was the journalist, so she could read people's minds."

  "It's easier to read minds when you're not asking questions at the same time," said Shimlara, who seemed to have recovered from her tears. "I'll just be the crazy bus driver."

  "I'll be the makeup artist," said Katie cheerfully.

  "And I'll be the cameraman," said Tyler.

  "I'll do sound," said Sean. "The guy wearing headphones always looks the coolest."

  That left Greta and Nicola.

  There was a pause. Nicola didn't look at Greta.

  "I'll be the producer," announced Greta.

  Yes!

  "So I guess that leaves you as the reporter," said Katie to Nicola.

  "I guess it does," said Nicola nonchalantly. She would be so good at it! She would ask clever, probing questions with a serious, thoughtful expression on her face.

  "The producer is the one who organizes everything," said Greta. "So basically I'm in charge of everything. I tell the reporter what to do, what questions to ask, where to stand, who to interview, all that sort of thing."

  "Umm, I'm not sure about that," began Nicola. Had she just made a terrible mistake?

  "Ah, guys," said Sean. "Remember, we're just pretending to be journalists. Don't take your undercover identities too seriously."

  "Of course not," said Nicola and Greta hastily.

  Katie had left the table and now she returned with her arms full of clothes.

  "I found our outfits," she said. "They're fine, except they're a bit big. I think he forgot how short we are compared to Globagaskarians."

  She held up the sort of plain, neutral-colored clothes that journalists would wear on assignment in a war zone: longsleeved shirts, pants, sleeveless flak jackets, dark sunglasses, and hats.

  BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

  The Space Brigade put their hands over their ears as three volcanoes all erupted in quick succession.

  "How do people live on this planet?" asked Katie, as she dropped her hands.

  Nicola stood up. "Let's go meet some Volcomanians and find out."

  CHAPTER 13

  The Space Brigade climbed aboard the school bus, dressed in the clothes JJ-11 had left for them. Everyone except for Shimlara had rolled up their sleeves and hems. Naturally they were all slathered in lava screen from the tops of their caps to the tips of their toes.

  "You don't need to sit all the way back there!" said Nicola, as she saw Sean automatically heading for the backseat of the school bus.

  "Can't sit anywhere else!" Sean called back without turning around. "It doesn't feel natural."

  Funnily enough, they all seemed to sit in the seats they would normally sit in if they were going to school. Greta was at the front, while Katie and Nicola sat next to each other in the middle of the bus. Only Tyler didn't bother to sit down. He stood next to Shimlara in the driver's seat, ready to give her instructions.

  Nicola watched him take a firm hold of the pole. "All right, Shimlara. Turn the key."

  The bus engine roared and Nicola and Katie gripped on tight to the seat in front of them as they lurched off down the hill away from the hut. "Piece of pie!" called out Shimlara.

  "You mean piece of cake," corrected Greta.

  "Nope!" said Shimlara. "I mean--whoops!" Tyler leaned over and helped pull the steering wheel back as the bus nearly veered off the road.

  The bus continued at a slower pace, winding down the side of the volcano.

  "That looks like a city down there!" called out Greta.

  Nicola peered out the window and saw a constellation of flickering lights in the distance and what looked like office towers and church steeples silhouetted against the gray sky.

  "And there's the Blue-5 road!" shouted Greta, who seemed to have the best spot on the bus.

  Nicola could see th
ey were heading toward an orderly intersection with clear, easy-to-read signs indicating roads paved with different colored bricks. "Blue-5, Blue-5--not Red-11!" cried Tyler, grabbing the wheel again from Shimlara.

  They made it onto the Blue-5 road and Nicola relaxed. Good. Now they just had to stay on this road until they got to the Underground Sea.

  "How about we turn the radio on?" called out Sean. "We can hear some Volcomanian music!"

  "Quiet down at the back of the bus!" Tyler called back, in a good imitation of their normal school bus driver, but he reached over and turned a dial. The radio crackled to life. It was a news bulletin. Nicola wasn't especially interested in current affairs on Earth, but it was entirely different when she was on another planet. She leaned forward with interest as a deep, authoritative voice read out the news:

  The President, Mrs. Mania, has ordered the drafting of a further ten thousand soldiers for the war on Whimsy. Anyone with a name beginning with N, S, T, M, or L should report immediately for duty at their nearest Draft Office.

  In other news, the Volcomanian Army has captured the Whimsian town of Melody. Mrs. Mania said this was an important strategic move for the army. Total surrender by the Planet of Whimsy is expected within a matter of days. ("Then why are they drafting more soldiers?" asked Tyler.)

  A small group of anti-war protesters is creating traffic chaos on the Blue-5 road, heading south. ("We're heading straight for the chaos," said Greta.) Police have been called.

  In intergalactic news, there has been no sign of the United Aunts for the last twenty-four hours. Kidnapping is suspected. Mrs. Mania reacted angrily to allegations that Volcomania was in any way involved. ("Bet they did it!" called out Sean.)

  It should be a cool to mild day ("Cool to mild?" exploded Shimlara) with south to south easterly breezes and low-level volcanic eruptions throughout the day.

  A cheery DJ's voice came on the radio. And now turn up your dials for the latest top-ten hit from the Lava-Heads! It's going to rock your socks off, people!

  Everyone winced as a strange sound erupted from the radio like the wails of a badly injured cat. Tyler quickly switched it off.

  "Right," said Greta. She stood up and turned around so she was facing the back of the bus. "I think we should pretend to be doing a story on the anti-war protest.That way, we can interview the protesters and we might find some important information to help us find Shimlara's family."

  Nicola nearly groaned out loud. This was an excellent idea. Why hadn't she thought of it herself? Now Greta would use it as an opportunity to prove that she should be the leader of the Space Brigade.

  "Great idea," said Nicola generously.

  "I know," said Greta. She sat down and Nicola breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe this time Greta wasn't going to bother trying to make a point.

  Greta stood up again and faced the back of the bus.

  "I was just thinking, this really proves that I am better qualified to be the leader of--"

  "Whoops-a-rosie!" called out Shimlara, as the bus veered off the side of the Blue-5 road, causing Greta to quickly sit down again without finishing her sentence.

  Don't worry, Nic, she's never going to be leader of the Space Brigade, said Shimlara's voice loud and clear in Nicola's head.

  Katie nudged Nicola and gave her a wink. Although Nicola and Katie couldn't read each other's minds or speak in each other's heads, they'd been friends for long enough that Nicola had a pretty good idea what Katie was thinking. Her loyalty was as solid as lava stone.

  Hey, I know you've known Katie forever but my loyalty is just as solid! said the voice of Shimlara in Nicola's head.

  SHIMLARA! KINDLY VACATE MY BRAIN! shouted Nicola without moving her lips.

  Nicola pulled out a notepad and pen from her backpack. She chewed on the pen as she tried to come up with some excellent questions that would show Greta that she deserved to be the leader.

  "Here's the protest!" shouted Tyler. Nicola's notepad flew off her lap and onto the floor of the bus as Shimlara jammed on the brakes.

  She looked out the window of the bus and saw a small group of Volcomanians marching along the Blue-5 road, holding placards high above their heads.

  At first glance, the Volcomanians could have been mistaken for Earthlings. They were short and tall, thin and fat, fair-haired and brunette. However, as Nicola looked closer, she saw their red, scaly skin and hooded eyes. She shivered slightly. It wasn't their fault their skin had evolved that way, but it had to be said, they weren't the prettiest life-form she'd come across on her intergalactic travels. It didn't help that their clothing was so drab. They all seemed to be wearing dung-colored, loose-fitting shirts and pants.

  Katie was reading out loud some of the signs they were carrying.

  STOP THE WICKED WAR ON WHIMSY!

  VOLCOMANIA, SHAME, SHAME SHAME!

  WHIMSY IS A PLANET OF ART AND SONG, NOT BULLETS AND BOMBS!

  DID OUR OWN PRESIDENT ORDER THE KIDNAPPING OF THE UNITED AUNTS?

  "Stop the bus!" called out Nicola, anxious to take control before Greta did. Shimlara pulled over to the side of the road and turned off the bus engine. Everyone stood up, looking nervous.

  "Remember, you're an Earthling camera crew," said Nicola. "Look confident, aggressive, and sort of nosy. Like real journalists. They just barge their way into any situation. Oh, and make sure you've got your press passes!"

  As Nicola said this she checked that she still had her own pass. It was a large gold card hanging on a black cord around her neck. Nicola was grateful to JJ-11 for finding such authentic-looking passes. Wearing it made her almost believe she really was a journalist.

  Tyler hoisted a movie camera over his shoulder and Sean picked up the sound equipment. Katie had a beauty case full of makeup, while Nicola had her microphone and notepad. Shimlara jangled the bus keys and Greta officiously tapped her pen against a clipboard.

  "I'll do all the talking," announced Greta crisply.

  "Ignore her," said Sean in Nicola's ear as they all walked up the aisle and off the bus.

  Greta didn't hesitate. She walked straight into the crowd of protesters, holding her press pass high, and shouting, "Press! Press!"

  Nicola couldn't help but be impressed. Who cared if she was irritating? It was worth it to have her on the Brigade. Congratulating herself on this mature response, Nicola followed close behind Greta, holding up her press card in the same way.

  One of the Volcomanians dropped his PEACE, NOT WAR sign by his side and stuck his face close to Nicola's. She tried not to flinch when she saw his scaly, crocodile skin up close. "You're not Volcomanians. Where are you from?" he growled.

  "We're from Earth," stammered Nicola. She'd hoped to sound like a confident journalist but instead her voice came out like a frightened five-year-old.

  She cleared her throat.

  "We're an Earthling news crew," she said firmly. "We're here to interview you about the War on Whimsy. Are you prepared to answer a few questions?"

  Now she sounded pleasingly aggressive. The Volcomanian actually looked nervous.

  "On camera? Me? On TV?" he said and bit his lip. "Oh, I don't know. I might say the wrong things. You'd be better talking to my wife. She always has a lot to say." He grabbed for the sleeve of a woman marching next to him. "Bertha! This is a journalist from Earth! She wants to interview you!"

  His wife, who had what looked like peace symbols painted on her red, scaly cheeks and was shaking an instrument that looked like a tamborine, was shouting at the top of her lungs, "Peace, not war, hear me roar!" She turned around and saw Nicola and the rest of the Space Brigade.

  "A journalist from Earth! That funny little planet! But don't you think you're the only planet in the galaxy?"

  "We wouldn't be here if we thought that, would we?" said Sean.

  "But goodness me, you're a very young news crew," said Bertha. "I've got children the same age as you. Shouldn't you all be in school?"

  "We start our professional lives very early on Earth,
" said Nicola. "Now, do you want to be interviewed or not? Because I can always ask someone else."

  "Oh, of course I would! I want to have my say! Roll the cameras! Let the universe hear how ashamed I am of my planet!"

  "Be careful what you say on air, darling," said her husband.

  "I've got to have my say, Bert!" said Bertha passionately.

  "Okay, I want you over here." Greta took Bertha by the arm. "And I want the rest of the protesters in a sort of semicircle behind you waving their signs."

  While everyone followed Greta's instructions, Katie came over to Nicola with her beauty case. She pursed her lips professionally as she brushed blush onto Nicola's cheeks and eye shadow onto her eyelids.

  "We've got to really define your features for television," said Katie.

  "Ummm, don't forget I'm not really appearing on television," said Nicola quietly, as Katie agonized over the right choice of lipstick.

  "Oh! Yes, of course," said Katie. It seemed like everyone was becoming caught up with their fake identities. Sean and Tyler were arguing over the best place to set up the camera equipment, while Greta was still marching around giving orders. Only Shimlara was standing still, watching the proceedings while she chewed furiously on her fingernails.

  Finally, after Katie had wound Nicola's unruly hair into a bun at the back of her neck, she pronounced her ready.

  "Here are your interview questions," said Greta, handing over a sheet of paper. "Use exactly the same wording I've given you. Don't say anything that isn't on the script. All you need to do is hold the microphone in front of Bertha and nod."

  I'm not just your puppet, Greta, thought Nicola as she took the piece of paper.

  She read the first question:

  Please compare and contrast the history of the Planet of Volcomania with the Planet of Whimsy.

  Nicola nearly choked. It sounded like an essay question. There was no way she was going to use these questions.

  "Sure thing," she said to Greta.

  She took a firm hold of her microphone and stood next to Bertha, who had her hands clasped in front of her and was whistling a mournful tune.

  "Sorry," she said when she saw Nicola. "I always whistle sad songs when I'm nervous. It's a strange habit. You won't ask me any really difficult questions, will you, or try and make me look stupid?"

  "Definitely not," said Nicola warmly. Knowing that Bertha was nervous filled Nicola with confidence.