Chapter Nine

Grunge and gunk

The crew ran down a series of gloomy metal corridors, their feet clanking and slightly squelching on the steel floor. The computer had managed to restore the lighting. Not that it made much difference. Half the lamps were broken and the rest were covered with grunge. The dim lighting hid the disgusting mould and grime smearing the floors and walls. But it did nothing to hide the sickly smell of rotting rubbish. Honestly, nothing could hide a smell as bad as that.

Harvey lost count of the turnings they took, and all the corridors looked the same to him – filthy.

The crew were fitter than they looked (although Scrummage reminded Harvey of one of those fat Sunday morning football refs who struggle to keep up with the action).

‘Hurry up!’ called Maxie over her shoulder as she ran. ‘You don’t want to get lost on your own ship! How embarrassing would that be?’

Very, thought Harvey.

Finally, at the far end of a corridor, Harvey could see a pair of giant steel doors labelled CARGO HOLD.

Determined not to be last, he put on a final spurt. Harvey was the fastest sprinter on the Highford All Stars team so he had every chance of overtaking the crew.

But unfortunately he hit a large puddle of slippery yellow gunk on the floor, his legs zipped out from under him and he slid the entire length of the corridor on his back. But at least he got to the doors first.

CRUNCH!

‘Owwww!’ Harvey struggled to his feet and, feeling foolish, snapped at the crew as they gathered outside the cargo hold. ‘You need to clean these floors!’

‘No, you need to get some non-slip space boots,’ retorted Scrummage, eyeing Harvey’s school shoes scornfully.

‘And what kind of uniform is that anyway?’ asked Maxie. ‘I mean, is it waterproof, rip-proof, acid-proof, gas-proof – and most importantly, is it maggot-proof?’

‘Maggot-proof?’ asked Harvey. ‘No! It’s just my sch—’

‘Stinking vomit! You’re braver than you look!’ spluttered Scrummage. ‘I wouldn’t go anywhere in outer space without full protective clothing.’

Killer maggots

But then no one would go anywhere in the Toxic Spew without full protective clothing either. Their green overalls kept them safe from 99% of all germs, bugs and other toxic nasties in the Known Universe – even pink killer maggots from the planet Venomoid Flux.

Which is just as well, because the entire cargo hold of the Toxic Spew is one giant rubbish bin. And it’s infested with maggots.

(I don’t know what kind of maggots you get on Earth, but pink killer maggots from Venomoid Flux are no ordinary maggots. They have vicious fangs that rip open your skin and pump pure acid into your flesh. Your insides turn to mush and then they slurp you up like soup.

So it’s a good job the crew have protective overalls, isn’t it? Of course, Harvey doesn’t. But then, he doesn’t know he needs them, does he? So he’s just standing there outside the cargo hold in his school uniform, wondering what all the fuss is about.)

But just right now, pink killer maggots from the planet Venomoid Flux were the least of the crew’s worries. Maggots don’t go KA-BOOM! and put all the lights out.

Deadly dangerous cargo

The doors to the garbage hold on the Toxic Spew are impressive. They’re those massive metal sliding ones that look like they’ve got a gigantic clunky zip down the middle. Above the doors are three orange lights that flash if the cargo is dangerous.

Alarmingly, they were flashing right now, bathing the grubby corridor and the crew in a sickly orange light.

Gizmo turned furiously on Rubbish Officer Scrummage. ‘Why didn’t you tell us the garbage was dangerous when we loaded it?’

At this point Yargal finally caught up. ‘Dangerous?’ she cried, her blue tentacles quivering nervously.

Scrummage glanced casually at the flashing orange lights and shrugged. ‘I didn’t know! And anyhow it’s probably nothing to panic about. Some of it’s just got a bit overheated  …  or  …  something.’

‘A bit overheated or something? Actually, I think you’ll find something just exploded!’ yelled Maxie.

For a Rubbish Officer responsible for some extremely hazardous waste, Scrummage could be worryingly hazy on the details. He could also be worryingly reckless. And worryingly  …  er  …  rubbish. He shrugged. ‘Don’t panic. I’ve carted all sorts of deadly toxic trash halfway round the universe and back for years and I’m telling you it’s fine. We just have to go in and hose it down a bit.’

‘We?’ choked Gizmo. ‘WE?! No way! “We” will stay out here. “You” will go in and sort it out.’

‘Fine,’ said Scrummage, and he hitched up his overalls and tried to look heroic. ‘If you’re all too scared, I’ll go on my own.’

Pushing the others out of the way, he slid open a panel in the wall to reveal a store cupboard crammed with equipment – all stuffed in any old how. Out toppled two orange safety helmets, a purple rubber glove, a first aid box and a bright yellow fire extinguisher type thing.

He picked up a safety helmet but Maxie yanked it out of his hands.

‘We could all die!’

‘Hold it, Scrummage!’ she said. ‘You’ve absolutely no idea what’s in there, have you?’

Scrummage didn’t answer.

Turning to Harvey, she added: ‘Captain, if he opens those doors we could all die! We might be ambushed  …  blown to smithereens  …  melted  …  gassed  …  eaten alive or  …  ripped to shreds!’

‘Oh, Captain!’ cried Yargal, her blue tentacles flailing in terror, ‘I’m too young to be ambushed  …  blown to smithereens  …  melted  …  gassed  …  eaten alive or  …  or  … ’

‘Ripped to shreds!’ prompted Maxie, helpfully.