“Is everyone in the ISF a cat?” I whisper to Pockets.
He shakes his head. “There are headquarters on one planet in each galaxy. We all work together to bring down B.U.R.P. and help keep the universe safe.”
“What does B.U.R.P. even stand for?” I ask.
“No one knows,” he admits. “It’s a big mystery.”
We wind up in a large office where a cat who looks like an older, more grizzled version of Pockets is pacing back and forth, a worried look on his face.
“Hello, Father,” Pockets says. “I’m back.”
The older cat stops pacing and races over to us. He looks Pockets up and down, then jumps on him and flips him over! Dad and I back away. They meow and roll over each other, swatting each other playfully on the nose.
“I was very worried,” his father says, stopping to nuzzle Pockets under the chin with his head.
Pockets bats his father away. “I’m fine, Chief. This was my twentieth mission! Didn’t you receive my report? I sent it from the space taxi.”
“Yes, I got it. You’ve always been independent, but it’s a parent’s job to worry about their child.”
“Will you still worry about me like that?” I ask Dad. “When I’m all grown up?”
Before my dad can answer, Pockets says, “Well… I’m not exactly all grown up.”
He shakes his head. “I’m only eight years old.”
“You’re only eight?” Dad and I shout at the same time.
“That’s my age!” I add. “You sound a lot more grown up than me. And you can do a LOT more things.”
“I was always very advanced for my age,” Pockets admits. “My father here is the head of the agency, the chief detective on the force. Everyone knew I’d join one day, so I’ve been training since I was a small kitten. But enough about me.” Turning to his father, he says, “You’ve read my report, Chief. What do you think about my request?”
The chief looks at me and Dad. “Well, I suppose that’s up to the humans to decide.”
“What are we deciding?” Dad asks.
The chief clears a hair ball from his throat. “It seems my son here thinks you and your son would be very helpful in our mission to take down B.U.R.P. before they’re able to take over the universe. You’d be honorary Intergalactic Security Force deputies.”
My eyes widen. First I discover I’m a space taxi copilot, then I get to help fight intergalactic crime? This has got to be the BEST Take Your Kid to Work Day in the history of the universe. I clutch my dad’s arm. “That sounds awesome, doesn’t it, Dad? Wait till I tell the kids at school!”
Dad hesitates. “Archie, I know it sounds exciting, but we don’t know anything about catching criminals.”
“We understand that,” the chief says. “But Pilarbing Fangorious thinks—”
“We call him Pockets,” I interrupt. “Easier to say.”
The chief tilts his head at me. “All right, then. Pockets thinks, and I agree, that he would blend in easier if he pretended to be merely a child’s pet. Adults say things in front of kids that they would not normally say, and that could come in very handy when spying on a suspect. Also, your space taxi is a perfect mode of transportation. It’s fast, it can travel to every corner of the universe, and it doesn’t need special permission to land. It would be the perfect cover for our secret missions.”
“I’d really like to help you,” Dad says. “But if Archie came on my route with me every night, he’d be too tired to go to school. His education is too important.”
Before I can think of an argument to counter that, Pockets steps forward. “I can speak three thousand languages,” he says. “And what I know about history and math and science and literature could fill a hundred school libraries. I could teach him when we get home each morning—after he sleeps, of course.”
“When we get home each morning?” my dad repeats.
“My son would have to come live with you,” the chief explains. “He’s still a kid, after all. Someone would have to watch over him.”
I squeal, which is a little dorky, but I can’t help it. My own crime-fighting cat? How awesome would that be? “Can we do it, Dad? You said you don’t have a copilot anymore, and don’t you need one? Think of all the things I could learn on the job that I’d never be able to learn in school.”
Dad sighs. “I did hope you’d be my copilot one day, Archie, but I thought that day would be far from now. I’ll agree to a week and we’ll see what happens.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know what your mom’s gonna say about this.”
“Yay!” I jump up and down. A week is better than nothing. I’m getting a cat PLUS a friend my own age to hang out with, all rolled into one! And I’ll be helping to save the universe every night! Pockets holds his paw up to me.
“High five!” we both say at the same time.
“You wouldn’t actually be able to tell your schoolmates about this,” Pockets says, suddenly serious again. “Our mission has to remain top secret.”
After a flash of disappointment I say, “I understand. I promise.”
We high-five again and I can’t control my grin.
I turn to my dad. “Thanks for agreeing to this! I bet after a few days Mom will get used to having an alien living with us.”
“Oh, it wouldn’t be the first time,” he says.
I pause. “What do you mean?”
“Bubba from Belora Prime lived under our kitchen sink for a few weeks while his house was being painted.”
My eyes widen, then narrow. “Did he have four arms and three eyes?”
Dad nods.
“I knew it!”