Space Team: Planet of the Japes Read online

  “Who waits where?”

  “You,” said Mech, pointing to Cal. “Wait here.” He pointed to the snow at their feet.

  “On my own? What about Miz?”

  Mech shrugged noisily. “She’s probably halfway back to the ship by now. I need to go get everything prepped, then get Loren to fly over here.”

  “Can’t you radio her?”

  “Not in this storm,” said Mech.

  “Well can’t I come? Why do I have to wait here?” Cal asked. “It’s cold, and there might be space yetis.”

  “What’s a…?” Mech began, then he shook his head. “In fact, I ain’t even gonna ask. The cold’s the most dangerous thing out here. There’s a hatch up on top,” he said, indicating the side of the cylindrical ship that was currently facing the sky. “You’re going to go inside and let them know help’s coming.”

  “Oh,” said Cal. “Oh. So, I’ll be inside? OK. That’s not too bad.”

  He thought for a moment.

  “Wait. How do I get up there?”

  Mech’s metal jaw curved into a grin as he grabbed Cal by the front of his spacesuit.

  “Ah, shizz,” Cal groaned. “I had to ask.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Cal sailed upwards, thudded against the side of the ship, grabbed frantically at its smooth sides, then fell backwards. He landed in a star shape, more or less in the exact same spot he’d landed the previous four times.

  Mech appeared above him. “Missed again, huh?”

  “I swear to God, you’re doing this on purpose,” Cal wheezed. He took Mech’s offered hand and let the cyborg pull him to his feet. “I never thought I’d say this, but you have to throw me higher.”

  “Gravity in this place is stronger than I’m used to,” Mech said. “I don’t want to overcompensate and risk you going all the way over the other side.”

  “Well I don’t want to risk concussion and brain damage, so if you could fix it that I don’t hit a spaceship then fall thirty feet to the ground this time, I’d really appreciate it,” Cal said.

  “You’ll heal,” said Mech.

  Cal paused. “Uh, yeah, about that,” he said, but Mech had already begun his upwards swing, and Cal could only grit his teeth and close his eyes as he rocketed up past the ship’s curved sides again.

  Very quickly, he began to slow. “Dammit, Mech,” he muttered, but then he passed an imprint of himself in the snow that clung to the hull, and continued on upwards for a few more feet.

  The top of the cylinder came into sight. Cal threw out his hands and clawed at the ice and frost, desperately trying to get a grip on something. Icicles fractured in his hands, and he felt the extra-strong gravity take hold again.

  “No, no, no, no,” he groaned, then his arms jerked as his fingers found a ridge buried beneath the powdery snow.

  “Yes!” he cheered. He laughed, despite the cold stabbing at him from every direction. “I did it. I did it.”

  In fact, he hadn’t quite done it, and it was only after three more minutes of fighting against the gravitational pull, slippery metal, and full-scale blizzard that he managed to heave himself up onto a more solid footing. By which point, he was no longer laughing.

  “OK. Fonk. OK,” he said, his breath coming in racehorse-like gulps. “I’m up. I’m up.”

  He rolled over to call down to Mech, immediately began to slip, and threw himself onto his back again. “Ooh, shizz, that was close,” he whispered. “Mech! I’m up!”

  No answer.

  Reaching around him, Cal pulled together enough snow to make a snowball, and tossed it over the edge in what he guessed was Mech’s direction. “I’m up! Go get the ship!”

  He needn’t have bothered. Mech, in fact, had already left to get the ship while Cal was scrabbling up the side, and was already halfway up the landing ramp. It took Cal three more snowballs and a lot more shouting to figure this out.

  Once he had, he carefully shimmied himself onto his side, and felt for the ridge he’d used to pull himself up. Brushing the snow aside, he found a small airplane-style window. It was far too small to climb through, and someone had pulled a blind down on the other side, meaning he couldn’t even see inside.

  “Shizz,” Cal muttered. He began crawling on his belly along the hull, sliding along like a penguin as he searched for some kind of entrance.

  A minute or so later, he uncovered another window. There was no blind covering this one, but a layer of ice made it hard to see more than a few blurry shapes inside, picked out by a suggestion of red emergency lighting. Cal banged a fist against the frozen glass. “Hey! Up here! We’ve come to rescue you!” he shouted. “Now please let me in before I die.”

  He cupped his hands and peered through the swirls of ice, trying to figure out if the shapes had noticed him. He didn’t think so, but it was hard to tell for sure.

  “Hey! Where’s the door?”

  He banged again.

  Nothing.

  “Jesus. Fine, I’ll find it myself. Thanks for all your help.”

  He resumed his undignified slide across the metal. Halfway to the next window, he heard something out there in the storm. It was something between a squeal and a roar, and immediately made Cal think of a small lion eating a large pig. And yet, at the same time, he suspected the sound had come from one creature, not two. It came again, and made his mind up.

  Yep. One thing. One big thing, he reckoned.

  Cal remembered what Mech had said. The cold was ‘the most dangerous thing here’.

  Most dangerous.

  Not only.

  The roar-squeal came again, closer this time. The vibration shook the snow, starting a number of mini avalanches around Cal that threatened to pull him over the sloping edge. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” he whimpered, propelling himself onwards as fast as he could.

  His boots thudded against the hull as he kicked on, the wind whistling and snow swirling around him. Even over all that, he heard the sound of whatever the fonk was out there again, so close now he was sure he’d be able to see it if he turned his head.

  He told himself not to turn his head. Turning his head would only slow him down, and it wasn’t like he could go any faster, even if he did see something behind him. No, turning his head would be stupid.

  He turned his head.

  All he saw was the inside of his space helmet, which was both a relief and disappointment at the same time.

  His forearms found another ridge in the snow. Brushing the white powder aside, Cal uncovered another window. He banged on it with both fists, then with his helmet, trying to make as much noise as possible. This was mainly to get the attention of the people inside, but also, if he were honest, to drown out the low, guttural snorting sound from behind him that suggested he was about to be eaten at any moment.

  “Let me in!” he hollered. “You hear me, you little bamstons? Let me—”

  The door, which Cal had unwittingly been lying on, dropped open, and Cal was presented with a view of the opposite wall.

  Quite a distant view of the opposite wall, in fact, but one that rapidly became less distant as the extra-strength gravity caught him and pulled him sharply downwards.

  Ooh, he thought. This is really going to—

  And then it really did. Quite a lot.

  He hit the wall, which currently served as a floor, cursed loudly, then rolled over onto his back just as something big white and furry appeared at the open hatch high overhead.

  “Space yeti!” he cried, jabbing a finger upwards. “I knew it!”

  The shape tumbled through. Too exhausted to move, Cal could only watch it flop down towards him. It was surprisingly soft and fluffy-looking, he realized, like a giant blow-dried sheep. He’d been expecting teeth of some kind – probably claws, if his past luck was anything to go by – but there was nothing vicious-looking about the thing at all.

  It landed softly on top of him, the impact making it emit a sound not unlike a baby’s first giggle. It rolled off him, chitteri
ng to itself in a way that brought a big, beaming smile to Cal’s face.

  Sitting up, Cal reached out a gloved hand and patted the thing. It quivered, and let out a series of soft coos and aahs.

  “Well, look at you. Aren’t you a cutey?” said Cal, then the shadows came alive around them, and twenty-six children in Celestial Scouts uniforms launched themselves at the thing and set about beating it to death.

  “Holy shizz! Stop! What are you doing?” Cal yelped, shuffling clear. The scouts were getting really stuck into the thing now, kicking and punching and tearing at its soft, fluffy fur. It squealed and shrieked and thrashed around in panic.

  “Leave it alone, you little psychos,” said Cal, grabbing for the closest kid. The boy turned, hissing, and flew at him, his face all bunched up in rage. He was oddly smooth-skinned, like a doll, with a nose that was barely a bump right between his narrowed eyes.

  The kid drove his forehead into the glass of Cal’s visor, then followed up with a kick aimed squarely between his legs. There wasn’t much force to it, and the space suit blocked most of what there was, but Cal felt it all the same.

  “Cut it out!” Cal said, shoving the boy away. The kid tripped over Cal’s feet and hit the floor with a loud clang that caught the attention of some of the others.

  As they stopped attacking the fluffball, it saw its chance. With a single bound, it launched itself up through the hatch again, and was immediately whipped away by the wind.

  The children – all twenty-six in total – slowly turned to Cal. They were a range of shapes and sizes, with varying arrangements of facial features and limb configurations. They all wore the same uniform, but the clothes were mostly torn and all of them, somewhat to Cal’s consternation, were blood-stained.

  Some of the kids’ faces were blood-stained, too, particularly around the mouth.

  The two adult-sized skeletons lying slumped on the floor were blood-stained, also.

  Cal began to get a picture of what had really happened to the scout leaders. Then he got a picture of it happening to him, next.

  “Aw, Jesus,” he groaned, right before the Celestial Scout troop pounced, and Cal was buried under a pile of flailing eight-year-olds.

  * * *

  Mech’s magnetic feet carried him up the side of the scout ship and onto what was currently its roof. He could have used the same method to carry Cal up there earlier, of course, and saved all those problems with him hitting the hull then falling backwards into the snow, but where would the fun have been in that?

  The Currently Untitled hovered overhead, its tow beam projector primed and ready to fire. First, though, Mech had to warn Cal and the kids, and make sure everyone was safely strapped in. Traveling in a ship flown by Loren was a health hazard at the best of times. Traveling in a ship being pulled through space behind a ship flown by Loren was likely to be even more so.

  Still, he was sure Cal wouldn’t mind staying with the scouts for the trip. Hell, the man was practically a child himself. They were probably getting along like a house on fire.

  Mech arrived at the hatch and looked down, just as Cal swung a Celestial Scout around by the legs, using him to smash three others to the floor. At the end of the swing, he released the child he’d been holding. The boy screamed as he flipped sideways through the air, then smashed against the hull and crumpled into a whimpering heap.

  Cal stood in the middle of a circle of semi-conscious children, breathing heavily, the gloves of his space suit clenched into fists. A clump of snow slid down from above and plopped onto his helmet. He looked up and met the wide-eyed, slack-jawed stare of Mech looking down.

  “Oh, hey,” said Cal, giving the cyborg a wave. He regarded the carnage around him, then raised his head again. “This totally isn’t what it looks like.”

  “You mean like you just kicked the shizz out of twenty-six kids?”

  Cal looked down again. “Oh. Right. Then yeah. It totally is what it looks like.”

  One of the scouts sat up, bending at the middle like a vampire rising from the grave. Cal floored the boy again with a right cross. He gave his hand a shake and flexed his fingers, then raised his eyes to the hatch again.

  “Now get me the fonk out of here before they all wake up.”

  * * *

  Loren sat in the pilot’s seat, one hand covering her mouth, her shoulders heaving.

  “It’s not funny,” said Cal. He turned in his chair to find Miz and Mech both hiding grins of their own. “I could’ve fonking died. It’s not funny.”

  “I agree, sir,” said Kevin. “The situation you found yourself in was most grave indeed, and we should not be—”

  He made a sound like a lot of air escaping from a balloon at once.

  “Sorry, I can’t do it,” he sniggered. “It’s hilarious.”

  “No! It isn’t!” Cal protested. “I was almost eaten by cannibal eight-year-olds!”

  Miz let out a snort and quickly turned her chair away. Cal listened to it creaking as she rocked with silent laughter.

  Cal shook his head, then caught Mech’s expression. “Mech, are you… are you fonking crying?”

  “What? No! No, I… uh… Tiny bit,” Mech squeaked, then the laughter exploded out of him. This set Loren and Miz off, and the bridge was filled with the sound of roaring, giggling and sniggering.

  Cal sat in silence, drumming his fingers on his armrest and waiting for the hilarity to stop.

  It took some time.

  Eventually, Loren managed to get her breathless guffaws down to just the occasional chuckle. She wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her shirt and blew out her aching cheeks.

  “Oh. Wow,” she wheezed. “Just… wow. How does this stuff keep happening to you?”

  “How should I know?” Cal asked. He shifted in his seat. “Fonking Space Scouts,” he muttered, which immediately set Loren off again.

  Cal crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. He caught sight of Splurt up there, tucked in among the vents and pipes near the ceiling. The little guy’s blobby body was wracked by violent shudders.

  “Not you, too,” Cal groaned. He turned in his chair, half-expecting to find a sniggering Tobey Maguire standing in the doorway, then spun all the way back to the front. He gestured to the viewscreen, which was rapidly becoming covered in snow. “Now, is someone going to fly us out of here, or do I have to do it myself?”

  CHAPTER THREE

  A few hours later, with a cylinder full of cannibalistic children trailing in its wake, the Currently Untitled dropped out of warp a few thousand miles from an orange-brown planet with very little in the way of water covering its surface.

  As was tradition, Loren completely fonked the slowdown, resulting in everything in the ship that wasn’t fastened down being launched forwards at high speed. This extended to the scout ship, which twanged forward on its invisible tow rope, then rebounded back again.

  Mech winced. “Probably should’ve told those kids to put on their seatbelts.”

  “Nah. Serves them right,” Cal said. “In fact, can we go around and do that again, like, another twice?”

  “Well this place looks awesome,” said Miz, glancing at the screen for a fraction of a second before turning her attention back to a knot in her fur which she had spent the last twenty minutes picking at.

  “I believe that was sarcasm,” Kevin intoned.

  “Oh really? You think so?” said Loren.

  “Yes, ma’am. I have a very good ear for that sort of thing.”

  “Obviously,” said Cal. He gestured towards the planet. “OK, Loren, take us to Tatooine, or wherever the fonk this is, and we’ll hand our tub of psychopaths into the Space Police, or whoever. Let them deal with the little shizznods.”

  “Atmosphere entry could be rough,” Loren pointed out.

  “Unlike all the other times, you mean?” Miz mumbled.

  “Again…” began Kevin.

  “We know,” said Loren.

  Cal leaned forward in his chair. “Rough on who? Us or them?” He
jabbed a thumb back over his shoulder, indicating the scout ship behind them.

  “Both,” said Loren. “But mostly them.”

  Cal gave a nod of satisfaction. “Excellent,” he said. “Then take us down, and don’t spare the horses.”

  Loren looked back over her shoulder. “What’s a—?”

  “Quickly,” Cal sighed. “Take us down quickly. Jesus.”

  “Alright, alright,” said Loren. She faced front again, but then turned back. “You OK?”

  “Hmm?” said Cal, distractedly. He shrugged, straightened up, and smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, fine. I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine,” said Loren.

  “He’s been totally grouchy for days,” Miz said, not looking up.

  “I haven’t been grouchy,” Cal protested. “I mean, was I upset about Hungry, Hungry Hippos? Yes. Yes, I was.”

  “You cried for three hours,” Mech said. “That ain’t right.”

  “It’s a classic game, OK?” Cal snapped. “It deserved better.”

  He twitched in irritation, then unclipped his belt and stood up. “On a scale of one to ten, how likely are we to crash when you land?”

  “Ten,” said Miz.

  Loren tutted. “Uh, no,” she said. “I don’t know. Like, two. Three, tops. Unless there are mountains.”

  “There are mountains,” said Mech.

  “Then four,” Loren admitted. “But barely. Practically a three.”

  “I’ll take my chances,” said Cal. “I’ll be in the back. Let me know when we touch down.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Miz. “The screaming and explosions will totally give it away.”

  She looked up to see Cal’s reaction, but he had already left the bridge. Her gaze flicked over to Mech and Loren instead, her eyebrows raising. They both shrugged.

  “Beats me,” said Mech.

  “Maybe someone should go talk to him,” Loren suggested.

  Miz pointed to the viewscreen. “Maybe you should avoid that asteroid.”

  Loren spun in her chair in time to see a huge chunk of rock tumbling towards them. She jerked her stick to the side, sending the Untitled into a roll.

  From out in the corridor there came a loud thump.