Stinker from Space Page 3

  “Well, if the engine still runs,” Karen said, trying to ignore the grub, “maybe you could build a new ship.”

  “With the technology you have on this backward rock? Ha! You might as well ask those ancient people of Ur to build an automobile.”

  Karen bristled at the slur to her planet but had to admit, after some reflection, that he was probably right. “It’s getting late,” she said, standing up. “We’d better head back. You may have see-in-the-dark eyes, but I haven’t.”

  The woods were cold and purpling with coming night when the three stepped from their shadows. High above, the last rays of sun were lighting a vapor trail as it etched a white line across the deep blue sky.

  “What about putting your engine in an airplane?” Karen suggested suddenly.

  “Too flimsy,” came the dejected reply. “Even the best wouldn’t last more than a few minutes outside the atmosphere.”

  As they approached home, Stinker’s head hung low and his muddy tail dragged listlessly along the ground. Karen had never seen an animal look so depressed.

  “Hey, you’d better perk up, or my mother will want to take you to the vet.”

  Stinker got a mental picture of shots and pills and having thermometers stuck up his hind-end—and quickly his head and tail rose jauntily into the air.

  As they walked in the front door, they could hear the drone of television. Picking up Stinker, she settled onto the couch beside her father’s recliner. The evening news was on with its usual display of maps, film clips, and serious, neatly groomed announcers.

  Sitting listlessly in Karen’s lap, Stinker paid little attention until suddenly his little ears swiveled around like radar. On the screen an announcer talked about a space shuttle flight to take place in two weeks. Stinker’s beady black eyes sparkled, and he squirmed about in Karen’s lap.

  Her father looked over. “Has that creature got fleas?”

  “Oh, no. It’s … it’s just that skunks in the wild are nocturnal animals. He still gets kind of antsy at sunset.” Karen had been reading the encyclopedia too. With the excited skunk tucked awkwardly under one arm, Karen stood up, “Guess I’ll go wash for dinner.”

  “Can’t you hold still?” she thought at Stinker when she’d reached the top of the stairs.

  “Well, put me down then. I’ve got feet! Why wasn’t that ship written up in those space books?”

  “Oh, I guess it was only in the planning stages when they were written. But why? All it does is orbit a few times and land again.”

  “But it was designed for space travel! Where it goes depends on the propulsion system—and the pilot.”

  “Maybe, but… . Hey, what do you have in mind, anyway?”

  “It’s obvious. We have to hijack the space shuttle.”

  6

  An Alliance Expanded

  Quickly Karen shut her bedroom door behind them. “You’re crazy! They launch those things down in Florida, behind lots offences, with lots of guards around. They’re not about to let some skunk march up and take over the ship.”

  Stinker sat down, resting his chin on crossed paws. “Hmm, that does pose difficulties—the security arrangements, I mean. Obviously we’ll have to bring it down somewhere close, where there’s no one to guard it.”

  “What?”

  “Those flat fields up the road should do.”

  “You want to make the space shuttle land in the Waldrons’ soybean fields?”

  “Yes, that would be fine. Then we wouldn’t have to drag my drive unit very far.”

  “I don’t like the way you keep thinking ‘we.’ ”

  Stinker’s whiskers drooped and his black eyes looked pathetic. “But of course I’ll need your help. I don’t know very much about this space shuttle of yours.”

  “It isn’t mine! It belongs to a bunch of scientists. And anyway, I don’t know the first thing about it. I’m not like nerdy Jonathan.”

  “Oh. Who is this Jonathan? A friend of yours?”

  “Not a friend! No … an acquaintance.”

  “Well then, let’s go ask him about the shuttle.”

  “I can’t!”

  “Why not? Does he live very far from here?”

  “No, he lives just up the road. But I can’t go up there and talk with him.”

  “Why not?”

  “He’s a boy!”

  Stinker was silent a moment. “I was not aware that males of your species were mute. Your father certainly is not.”

  “No, no, it’s just that… Oh, all right, all right. We’ll go talk with him. But I wouldn’t do this for just any skunk!”

  With one excuse or another, Karen managed to put off the ordeal until Saturday, but at last she could delay no longer.

  The day was gray and overcast, like her mood. After breakfast, she trudged up the road with Stinker trotting jauntily behind. As they approached the large gray farmhouse, Karen felt it looked more like a forbidding medieval fortress or some wizard’s lair in an alternate universe.

  With heavy hand, she knocked on the front door, desperately hoping the entire family was out, but to her despair, a woman opened the door and smiled inquiringly.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Waldron. Uh … the other day Jonathan said he was interested in seeing my pet skunk, and … and so I’ve brought him over.”

  “Oh … yes.” The smile wavered and Mrs. Waldron took an involuntary step back.

  “Oh, don’t worry. He’s deodorized and very friendly.”

  “Yes. Yes, certainly. Jonathan did talk about him. I’m sure he’ll be delighted. I’ll go tell him you’re here.” Hastily she disappeared from the doorway, leaving Karen to stand brooding on the porch.

  Stinker thought at her, “I don’t understand, Karen. If this person is your age, your neighbor, and your schoolmate, why aren’t you friends?”

  She groaned. “Social customs far too complex for you to understand.”

  From upstairs came the sound of Jonathan’s mother knocking on a door, and then a muffled “Yes?”

  Blushing guiltily, Karen took a step inside to hear better. “Karen from down the road is here to see you, Jonathan.”

  “What? She’s a girl! Tell her I’m sick or something.”

  “I know she’s a girl, silly. It wouldn’t kill you to talk with one. Besides, she’s brought that pet skunk you were going on about.”

  Silence. Then, “Well, all right. Send her up.”

  “Yes, your lordship. ‘Send her up,’ indeed.”

  Hastily Karen stepped back, but she felt better. She had something Jonathan wanted. And it seemed he didn’t like to be with girls any more than she did with boys. Well, they’d just have to endure each other for the sake of the universe.

  Keeping a cautious distance, Mrs. Waldron ushered Karen and Stinker up the stairs and through the door.

  As she stepped into the room, Karen looked around curiously. Hanging by transparent threads from the ceiling was a fleet of plastic spacecraft. Not all were Russian or American models. There were a fair sprinkling of Klingon and Romulan battle cruisers, Imperial fighters and other fantastic craft. Walls not lined with bookshelves were covered with posters. Prosaic sky charts and NASA publicity posters mixed with cinemagraphic heroes and villains brandishing weapons. On one table sat Jonathan’s ham radio set she’d heard about, and on the other was the terminal for a home computer.

  Then her eyes fell on Jonathan, who sat slumped down behind a desk strewn with pieces of a half-finished model of a space fighter. Sunlight from the window glinted off his glasses. “Well?” he said coldly.

  He sounds just like Ming the Merciless giving audience, Karen thought. “Uh … hello, Jonathan. I sort of thought you’d like to meet my pet skunk.”

  On cue, Stinker waddled out from behind her and began exploring the room. With nothing to say to each other, Karen and Jonathan concentrated on watching the skunk.

  Bookcases were examined, drawers opened, and the radio given thorough scrutiny. When Stinker’s inquisitive paws beg
an twirling a black globe dotted with pin-sized holes, Karen couldn’t help asking, “What’s that?”

  “That,” said Jonathan in a grand tone, “is my planetarium. I’ll show you.” Now honestly eager, he jumped up, pulled down the window shades, and flipped a switch on the base of the globe. Suddenly the darkened room was transformed into a starry sky. Tiny pinpricks of light shone on the walls and ceiling in rough semblance of constellations.

  “See, there’s Orion and Taurus and the Pleiades.” He went on to point out the other constellations, distorted somewhat as they bent around corners or splayed over furniture. Finally opening the shades, he sat down again. “Pretty neat, huh?”

  “Primitive but effective,” came an answer. “A little too schematic and two-dimensional to be useful for navigation, though.”

  “Well, of course… .” Jonathan stopped awkwardly. “Karen, did you say something just now?”

  “She didn’t, but I did,” another answered inside his mind.

  Jonathan clapped both hands to his head. Suddenly the skunk jumped on his lap and, planting both front paws firmly on his chest, looked him in the face.

  “It’s me, Tsynq Yr, operative of the Sylon Confederacy.”

  Jonathan’s voice was on the high edge of hysteria. “Karen, are you some sort of weird ventriloquist?”

  To her surprise, Karen suddenly felt sorry for him.

  “Hey, Stinker, don’t come on so strong,” she said aloud. “You’re a little hard to take all at once, you know.”

  “Sorry,” the skunk thought in reply as he settled more sedately into Jonathan’s lap. “Explain as you see fit.”

  Karen did, with Stinker throwing in an occasional supplementary thought. Afterwards, Jonathan looked across at Karen, trying to avoid seeing the skunk who was now on his desk busily assembling pieces of his model.

  “And I’m supposed to believe that?”

  Karen got up from the edge of the table where she’d been sitting. “Well, isn’t it better than believing in a mind-melding skunk who could probably beat you in computer games?”

  He looked down at the busy little black paws. “Yes, I guess it is.” He was silent a minute. “But what I really can’t believe is that I’d be of any use in trying to hijack the space shuttle. I mean, that’s really crazy!”

  “Ah, but what I need first is information,” Stinker thought at him as he slotted the plastic space pilot into the cockpit. “I need to learn everything I can about the shuttle’s design and operation. Engine plans, reentry procedures, that sort of thing.”

  Karen snorted, thinking it unlikely that her neighbor could supply anything of the sort. But Jonathan, regaining some of his composure, shot her a superior glare.

  “Sure, I’ve got most of that. If a kid writes a sincere enough letter, the NASA public relations people’ll send most anything.”

  Jonathan rummaged through drawers and shelves and stacks of papers until he had built a considerable pile of booklets and brochures on the floor by his desk. Stinker, who was having difficulties with the little tube of glue, happily abandoned the model and climbed down. He began spreading the material over the rug, turning pages, examining diagrams, occasionally emitting little squeals and grunts of satisfaction.

  The other two watched in awkward silence until there came a sudden knock at the door. “Can I get you kids something to eat?” Mrs. Waldron’s voice said. “It’s lunch-time.”

  Jonathan jumped up and hurled himself against the door. He didn’t care to explain the studiously reading skunk, should his mother come in. “Oh yeah, great idea, Mom. Thanks. How about some sandwiches?”

  “Make them peanut butter,” came an unvoiced addition. On the other side of the door, Mrs. Waldron shook her head and went down to make peanut butter sandwiches.

  When the last sandwich had been eaten, Stinker began thinking at them excitedly while using his tail to wipe off the peanut butter he’d smeared over the cover of The Child’s First Book of the Space Shuttle.

  “I believe I can do it. Some more detailed plans would be useful, of course. These things are awfully schematic. But I do think it can be done. I’ll need your help for the next stage, though.”

  “Wait a minute, Stinky… .”

  “Tsynq Yr, if you please.”

  “All right, all right, Stinker. Showing you kiddies’ books and NASA PR stuff is one thing. But I’m not sure I want to help you storm the launchpad, firing lasers or whatever, and take over the shuttle. I mean, they’ve got lots of soldiers and everything around there. And machine guns, I bet.”

  “Oh, well, I actually hadn’t planned anything as adventurous as that. Are you disappointed?”

  “Disappointed?” Karen said. “Hardly. It’s just that… well, it’s just that stealing valuable U.S. Government property for a pet skunk. …”

  “Pet skunk!” came the injured reply. “I thought we were friends. I mean, even if you two can’t manage to be friends with each other, you can both be with me, can’t you?”

  “Oh sure, but… .”

  “So what are friends for? They’re to help each other. Right?”

  “Sure but… .”

  “So I’ll help you both to have a small, relatively safe adventure, and you help me get off the planet. And don’t worry about the U.S. Government. I can see that their property’s returned when I’m through with it.”

  “Well… .”

  Stinker jumped up and waddled toward the door. “Now the first thing I need to do is dig that power unit out of my ship before it sinks any farther into the ooze.”

  “Sure,” Jonathan said resignedly as he reached for his jacket, “what are friends for?”

  7

  Baddies at One’s Doorstep

  They stopped at the Waldrons’ barn for a couple of shovels, then continued down the road to Karen’s house. In the dilapidated gardening shed they clattered about, moving rakes and hoes until they pulled free an old red wagon. After a moment’s thought, Karen hurried to the kitchen door and stuck her head in.

  “I’m off to play in the woods, Mom. Already had lunch.”

  Her mother peered through the window above the sink. “Oh, you have Jonathan with you. How nice.”

  Karen’s stomach churned at the sight of her mother’s pleased smile. She stalked away. The sacrifices one had to make for interstellar adventure!

  Karen and Jonathan took turns hauling the wagon. It rattled and wobbled behind them as the three set out toward the woods. Some of the leaves had fallen in the previous day’s rain and now lay in a sodden carpet underfoot. Other trees still blazed their leaves against the lead gray sky. Brave torches against the encroaching power of darkness, Karen thought, shivering. The woods didn’t look nearly so friendly today.

  Unerringly they made their way to the crash site. As forest mingled with bog, the air smelled of damp earth and rotting vegetation. Their wagon bumped noisily over roots and fallen branches. The silence they disturbed had a waiting menace about it.

  At first Jonathan was disappointed with the ship itself, but as he poked and prodded among the exposed remains, he became more impressed. “This sure is weird-feeling metal.”

  “No-good cheap stuff,” was Stinker’s reply. “My own Sylon fighter would never have broken up like this.”

  “I don’t understand why nobody saw the crash,” Jonathan said as he fingered an odd fragment of machinery.

  Karen answered. “It was really stormy that night, remember? What with all the lightning, a falling spaceship or two would never have been noticed.”

  With the children wielding shovels and Stinker alternately directing them and scrabbling with his paws, they slowly cleared away part of the wreck. After a while, among twisted metal shards, they began exposing a smooth metallic cylinder elaborated with numerous odd projections.

  “Is that what we’re looking for?” Jonathan said, pushing sweaty hair out from behind his glasses. “It looks in pretty good shape.”

  “Yes. These units, at least, are made t
o last—even when they’re put in a piece of space junk like this ship.”

  Struggling and heaving, the three managed to drag the thing out of the ground and into the wagon. The wheels sank into the muck with wet sucking sounds until they finally hauled it onto stony ground. Then, damp with sweat and mud, they sat down wearily on a mossy hummock to catch their breath.

  A few birds chirped halfheartedly in the gray woods. Otherwise the only sound was the dripping of foggy dampness from tree branches and a faint rattling, like wind-stirred reeds.

  Suddenly Stinker stiffened, his fur bristling like a porcupine’s. “Did you hear that?”

  “What?” Jonathan said. “The birds, the wind?”

  “That rattling. Hurry, we’ve got to get out of here!” The little animal scurried over to the wagon. “Come on! I can’t pull this by myself.”

  Catching his fear, though not knowing why, Jonathan and Karen jumped up and joined him.

  “But I don’t get it,” Karen said as she pushed the balky wagon while Jonathan pulled. “What’s the hurry?” Slowly their charge creaked forward with its heavy load.

  “That noise! It’s them! They’ve found me.”

  “Who?”

  The rattling noise was suddenly closer, sounding like wind chimes made from dried bones. Stinker’s thoughts hissed like a snake. “The Zarnk!”

  There was a sudden movement in the grayness to their left. Karen and Jonathan spun around to see something emerging from bushes twenty feet away. It looked like a loose collection of bamboo poles held together at the top by a huge glob of amber glue.

  The thing clattered forward. It stopped and slowly raised one pole-like appendage. Something metallic glinted at its end.

  “It’s armed, run!” squeaked a mental order. And the two children ran. Stinker bolted after them, but after a few bounds he suddenly stopped and reared up on his hind legs.

  Karen, seeing this out of the corner of her eye, gasped and skidded to a halt. “Oh, no! His skunk instincts are taking over!”

  Stinker thrust his tail into the air, aimed at the advancing enemy, and sprayed. A cloud of oily stench shot toward the thing.