Stinker's Return Page 4

  “Humph,” Stinker replied. “Then why aren’t the other cars keeping up with those speed laws? Most of them are just poking along—except for those cars with the flashing lights behind us.”

  “Flashing lights?” both exclaimed. Then Karen asked, “Stinker, are there sirens, too?”

  “You want to hear outside noises?” He touched a control and suddenly street sound filled the cabin. Horns blared and brakes squealed as cars swerved to get out of their way. And above that came the not-too-distant wail of police sirens.

  Jonathan shuddered. “You know, Stinker, I think your plan for a low-profile visit is kind of shot.”

  6

  Tourists

  Karen cringed at the rising sound of police sirens. “We’re in big-time trouble if those police stop us. None of us even has a driver’s license.”

  Stinker’s thoughts flashed with surprise. “Are those police, the cars with the lights and sirens? Well, no problem. I was just trying to keep our speed down so we wouldn’t attract attention.”

  Karen and Jonathan were thrown back into their seats as the ship suddenly shot forward, dodging through traffic as if everyone else were standing still. Wide-eyed, they watched the monuments of Washington zip by. There were brief glimpses of statues and impressive buildings. One looked briefly like pictures they’d seen of the White House. Then came the lit-up columns and dome of what looked like the Capitol building. Suddenly they careened around a corner and the ship slowed.

  “Ah,” Stinker said, “this is the area we want. And look, there’s some sort of tall fence we can hide behind.”

  Beside a big modern building they saw that part of the grounds had been walled off by a tall, curtainlike fence. Stinker steered their ship off the road and over the grass. Suddenly they shot up into the air and then down, hopping over the fence like a flea.

  On the other side of the tall fence, most of the city lights were screened off. They sat there listening to the distant sirens drawing closer, then, without slowing, going past.

  “Whew!” Jonathan said. “Sounds like we lost them.”

  “Good,” Stinker said as he pawed in a greasy paper bag for the last of the french fries. “So let’s stay here the rest of the night and get some sleep. Then tomorrow we can do Washington.”

  “Stinker . . .” Karen began.

  “Yes, yes, I know. From now on, it’s low profile all the way.”

  When Jonathan next opened his eyes, he was looking up at a blue morning sky. Birds were chirping. Was he camping in the backyard? He fumbled for his glasses and put them on. There were high wispy clouds in the sky. Beneath the bird song he heard the rumble of traffic. City noise. Then he remembered.

  Quickly, he sat up. Karen lay stretched out nearby on the floor of the spaceship, a wadded-up extra shirt as a pillow. Stinker was curled up like a black-and-white cushion in his bucket seat. Suddenly his beady eyes popped open and he raised his head.

  “Time to get up and going, is it?”

  Jonathan yawned. “Guess so. But what are our plans anyway?”

  “My plans are to sleep,” came Karen’s muffled answer. “So would you two guys pipe down?”

  Stinker sat up and shook himself from nose to tail. “What? And miss this glorious morning, this chance to visit your nation’s capital. To say nothing of a chance to find what I’m looking for and to—what’s your phrase?—get my tail out of the fan? Get my fat out of the fire?”

  Karen groaned and sat up. “So where are we going to look for this mysterious something that’s going to save your neck?”

  “Another good phrase,” Stinker commented as he jumped down and waddled toward the map. “This marks all the museums around here, and there’re quite a lot. But some look more promising than others.”

  He sat partway on the map, his furry rump covering large sections of town. With one paw, he pointed to a long green rectangle. “I think we’re here. By the”—he squinted at the tiny writing—“by the National Air and Space Museum.”

  “Fitting,” Karen said, scooting herself closer.

  “Now right across this green park area, ‘the Mall,’ there’s the National Gallery of Art. North of that is the National Museum of Natural History and north of that is the National Museum of American History. Surely I can find something for that Twakish hair ball in one of those places.”

  Jonathan frowned. “But if the building we’re at already is the Air and Space Museum, why don’t we check it out first? That’s a place I’d actually like to see.”

  Stinker sniffed. “Jonathan, face it. Your people’s puny space efforts are hardly anything to impress the High Gyrn of a space dominion that includes several thousand stars.”

  Jonathan shrugged. “I guess not. But after coming all this way, I’d sure like to . . .”

  “Okay, we’ll fit it in if there’s time. Now let’s see about some breakfast.”

  Karen was already doing that, but all she could find were a few broken cookies and about a quarter of a jar of peanut butter. “Guess we’ll have to eat out. But I don’t have much money.”

  “Me neither,” Jonathan said. “Not enough for fancy restaurants anyway. Maybe for street vendors.”

  When they stepped out of the ship, however, Jonathan forgot about eating. Their ship was not alone behind the concealing fence.

  “Wow! Look at that. It looks almost like . . .”

  “Like Alex Greystone’s ship in Star Raiders!” Karen finished.

  In seconds they were across the patch of grass and examining the craft. “It is!” Karen exclaimed. “Look, here’s the Star Raiders insignia!”

  “And here’s a sign,” Jonathan said, pointing to a wooden plaque set in the grass in front of the ship. “The Star Arrow from the original Star Raiders films.”

  Karen nodded. “I bet that’s why this fence is here, so they can hide it until they finish the exhibit or something.”

  By now Stinker had joined them and was sniffing disdainfully around the ship. “Humph. Poor design, cheap materials. It would never fly. I can’t see why you two are so excited about this. My ship’s the real thing.”

  “But so’s this,” Karen protested. “The real movie thing. Trevor Conway and all the other stars have actually touched it!”

  “Hmm. Well, do you think we’re safe leaving our ship here? Suppose the workers come to do some more setting up?”

  “They’re not likely to,” Jonathan said. “It’s Saturday. It should be okay as long as we leave before Monday morning.”

  “All right,” Stinker said, waddling purposefully toward the gate in the fence. “Now let’s see to breakfast.”

  Reluctantly the other two left the Star Arrow, but they found the gate locked. “What’ll we do now?” Jonathan asked.

  “Open it,” Stinker said, as he reached into a little compartment in the harness he had strapped around his furry body. “This time I came prepared.”

  He pulled out something like a stubby pencil and had Karen lift him up to the lock. He touched the two together, and the door swung open.

  Cautiously they peered outside. Some distance away they could see a street and people walking along the sidewalk, but no one was near enough to notice the odd group slipping out a door marked MUSEUM PERSONNEL ONLY.

  In all directions stretched grass, plazas, and monumental buildings. And scattered about were lots of people.

  “You know,” Karen said, looking at the skunk, “seeing you could cause a small riot. You’d better ride in my backpack.”

  “But couldn’t you say I was your pet or something?”

  “Pet skunks are not everyday things, Stinker. People see a skunk and the first thing they do is freak out. Then maybe they call the police—or the pound. We’re trying to keep low profile, remember?”

  “But it’s so undignified! Suppose I drape myself around your neck like a fur wrap. I’ve seen pictures of those.”

  “Skunk fur isn’t in style,” Karen snapped. “Besides, it’s summer. I wouldn’t exactly be low p
rofile if I wore a fur wrap in June.” She lowered her backpack and opened its flap. “Now, in!”

  With a sigh Stinker climbed in, and Karen hoisted the bag on to her shoulders.

  “Whew! You’ve put on a little weight, Stinker. Sure you need breakfast?”

  The answering thought was not amused.

  They made their way to a street and then crossed it to the Mall, itself a grassy park many blocks long. For the first time they had a good look at Washington, D.C. Above the long green expanse, the sky stretched a glowing blue, crisscrossed by the high white scratches of vapor trails. At one end, set against the blue of the sky, was the marble dome of the Capitol. In the other direction the pale stone needle of the Washington Monument rose from the grass, and beyond it and a long pool of water they could see the white columns of the Lincoln Memorial.

  For a while they just stood in the warm morning sun, taking it all in.

  “Big, isn’t it?” Jonathan said at last.

  Karen nodded. “It looks like all those postcards, only for real.”

  Stinker had been sticking his head out from the top of the backpack. “You people do this monumental thing rather well, I’ve go to admit.”

  “How about bringing the High Wack a set of postcards?” Jonathan suggested.

  “That’s the High Gyrn of Twak. And no, you do it well, but so do other folks in the universe. I don’t think he’d be impressed by pictures of architecture. I, however, would be impressed by a little breakfast.”

  “With the amount of money we have, it will be a little,” Karen said, heading toward a clump of sidewalk vendors. They finally selected bean burritos, stuffed one into the backpack, and crossed another wide street to the National Gallery of Art. They stood a moment looking up at the marble doorway and pillars, then went inside.

  Karen glanced about at all the uniformed guards and shot a mental question at Stinker. “Do you really plan to steal something from here?”

  “Not steal,” Stinker replied. “I brought along some jewels to leave in place of whatever I take.”

  “So what do we look for?” Jonathan asked, as he glanced through the tourist brochure. “It says this is one of the largest marble buildings in the world. There must be trillions of paintings in here.”

  “You just walk. I’ll look.” Stinker adjusted the top of the backpack so he could see out and not easily be seen.

  For hours it seemed, Karen and Jonathan walked up and down stairs and corridors, into big rooms and small ones, looking at paintings, sculpture, drawings, tapestries, and furniture. Their feet were aching and their minds numb before Stinker finally said, “Nope, this isn’t the place. On to the next museum!”

  “What?” Jonathan exclaimed. “We must have walked twenty miles and seen a zillion dollars’ worth of art. Isn’t there something your High Quack would like?”

  “High Gyrn. Oh, sure, it’s all nice enough, but lots of planets produce nice artwork. This has got to be absolutely special or those Sylon outposts will be ashes—along with my career. So what’s next?”

  Sighing, Karen pulled out the brochure. “Just west of here is the Museum of Natural History. There’s got to be something there. But Jonathan, it’s your turn to carry the backpack. Some skunks are heavy.”

  They trudged outside and on toward the building next door. “More marble columns,” Jonathan grumbled. “Never knew there were so many in the world.” Then he stopped short. “Now, that’s more like it.”

  In front of them was a life-sized statue of a triceratops dinosaur. “How about that?” Karen suggested.

  Stinker snorted. “Nothing new. I went to a ball once where the hostess looked a lot like that.”

  Inside, they found stuffed wild animals from every continent and fossils from every age, but Stinker remained unimpressed. “Hey, look,” he said, when the others persisted, “the universe is full of funny-looking creatures. Some are just animals and some can make spaceships, but one more is not going to excite the High Gyrn.”

  “Jewels, then,” Karen suggested. “There are galleries full of diamonds and emeralds and stuff.”

  “Small change,” Stinker sniffed. “We’ve got machines that can turn out dozens of those in a minute.”

  “Well, why don’t—” Jonathan was interrupted by a woman’s scream.

  “Guards! Those children have a live animal in that pack. I saw it move!”

  “Hey, now, kids,” a bulky guard said, stepping up to them. “No pets allowed in here, you know.”

  “Pets?” Jonathan blurted. “Oh, no, she’s mistaken, sir. I haven’t got any pets.”

  “Well, let’s just see, shall we?” the guard said with a tired smile.

  “Oh. Ha, ha, pets. Of course!” Karen said suddenly. “She must have seen my toy, my stuffed skunk. I just bought it. It’s really cute, and stiff like a toy you know.”

  “Really?” the guard said, cautiously peering into the top of the backpack. He reached in and slowly pulled out a plump, glassy-eyed skunk, its legs stiff as sticks. Under its fur were glimpses of a blue, plastic-looking harness.

  “Sorry, lady,” he said with a chuckle. “It’s a toy, all right. Cute, don’t you think?”

  “I do not! I think it’s disgusting. A toy skunk, of all things! How vile!” As she stomped away, Karen caught a flicker of thought about what a certain skunk would like to do to her.

  “You know, I wouldn’t mind having one of these for my own kid,” the guard said, poking Stinker’s tummy. Where’d you get him?”

  Karen’s mind buzzed with Stinker’s thoughts. “Make him put me back! If I don’t blink, breathe, and wiggle soon, I’ll explode!”

  “Oh, we got him at a toy store yesterday,” she told the guard. “Sorry I don’t remember where. But we have to go now.”

  “Sure,” the guard said, giving Stinker’s tail one final ruffle, then stuffing him back in the bag. “But thanks for the chance to put one of those bossy biddies in their place. Made my day.”

  Jonathan felt the backpack thump and wiggle as they hurried for the door. “How humiliating!” came the thoughts. “Me, a crack Sylon pilot, having to act like a cute fuzzy toy!”

  “Then keep your cute fuzzy head out of sight,” Jonathan muttered.

  It was midafternoon when they stood outside again. “Where next?” Jonathan asked with a discouraged sigh. He shoved his glasses back along his nose.

  Karen pulled the crumpled brochure from a pocket. “The Museum of American History?”

  “Right,” Stinker replied. “But after lunch.”

  “We haven’t got enough money for lunch.”

  “I’ll waste away! I’ll starve!”

  “Not likely,” Jonathan snorted. He felt a kick from the backpack. “Here, Karen, it’s your turn to carry this.”

  As they transferred the pack, Karen said, “Look, there’s a guy selling pretzels. Maybe we have enough for one of those.”

  Minutes later they were sitting on a bench, dividing a big soft pretzel three ways. Wearily, they chewed and watched the tourists bustling past. Several kids with dinosaur balloons galloped by, then came a woman pushing a stroller. The toddler in it was waving a large sugar cookie and chanting to itself. As the woman stopped to read a map, Karen felt the backpack buck. There was a streak of black and white, and suddenly the baby was looking wide eyed at its empty hand.

  “Doggie!” it announced. “Doggie like cookie.”

  The woman looked up, stared a minute, then screamed.

  People turned their way. “Look, Daddy,” a little boy cried, pointing under the bench. “A kitty!”

  “A skunk!” someone else yelled. “Call the police! Call the pound! Help!”

  7

  Something Very Earth

  Jonathan sprang to his feet, and Karen squatted down so Stinker could jump into the backpack. People were screaming and pointing, and one of the children with dinosaur balloons was charging their way.

  “Neat! A real skunk. Let’s see!”

  The boy’s ball
oon popped on the handle of the stroller. The baby screamed, and Stinker took off like a black-and-white rocket.

  “Guns! They’ve got guns like on TV!”

  “No, Stinker! It’s a balloon. Wait!” Karen thought back as she and Jonathan ran after him.

  The sight of the galloping skunk set more people screaming, and by the time they’d reached the trees and bushes around the next building, they thought they could hear a police siren as well.

  “Why didn’t I come back in a different body?” Stinker’s thoughts wailed from somewhere deep in the bushes. “Something that could command a little respect around here. Something like that triceratops of yours.”

  “No way I’d carry that in a backpack,” Jonathan said. “Though I bet even a triceratops couldn’t get us in as much trouble as a greedy skunk. Now, come out and get in this pack.”

  “Humph. I ought to give them all a good spray for scaring me like that.”

  “That’s the last thing we need,” Karen said. “Then they’d come with real guns.” She turned around and saw a police officer trotting up to them. “They already have. Get inside!”

  She stuffed the pack deep into the bushes. Branches rustled, and the pack jumped about. In one swoop she yanked it out and flung it onto her back.

  “Hey, kids,” the police officer said behind them. “If there really is a skunk around here, you’d better stay clear. It might be rabid.”

  “Oh. Right,” Jonathan said. “We just wanted to see it. You know, scientific interest and all.”

  “It was probably just a cat anyway,” Karen added as they hurried away.

  The next museum was square and modern looking, but they were in such a hurry to get out of sight they didn’t notice much of anything until they were inside. A large, tattered American flag was hanging on the wall. Jonathan glanced at the label and said, “Don’t even think about taking this, Stinker. It’s the original Star-Spangled Banner.”

  Stinker was going to make snide comments about collecting old rags, but when he picked up the thoughts of the other two he decided against it. “Let’s check out something else.”