Chapter Twenty-two
Never say die
Back at the exit pod Gizmo was trying hard to make radio contact with Harvey. ‘Captain, can you hear me?’
But all he got in reply was: ‘Sswcheer-ing bzz Giz-rchhhh!’
‘He’s out of radio range!’ Gizmo told the others on the bridge.
‘Computer?’ said Maxie. ‘Any ideas?’
‘Yes! Advertise for another captain!’ it said. ‘You won’t get that one back.’
‘NO!’ snapped Maxie angrily and she thumped both her fists on the flight desk. ‘We must get him back.
‘Look, Harvey didn’t even want to be our captain,’ she went on. ‘He came here by mistake and we promised that one day we would get him home. He’s a brilliant captain, and brave. He’s risked his life for us and we’re not going to abandon him.’
‘Maxie’s right!’ cried Yargal, suddenly pulling herself together, her three eyes wobbling angrily on their stalks. ‘“Never say die!” as Captain Harvey would say, and … and … “It’s not over till the final whistle” … er … whatever that means.
‘And we are not going to give up. Gizmo – keep trying the radio. Maxie – get this ship as close to him as you can. And Scrummage – you just think of a way to get him back onboard. And quickly!’
And she gave Scrummage a mighty whack round the back of his head with one of her tentacles.
THWACK!
‘Ouch!’
Out cold
Five hundred or so metres out in space, Harvey could just make out the worried faces of Maxie and Yargal through the vision screen. So he waved at them bravely and thought he saw them wave back, Yargal’s tentacles flailing wildly.
Scrummage wasn’t waving. He was thinking.
‘Splattering sickbags!’ he said. ‘I’ve got an idea!’ He rapidly flicked switches and punched buttons on the garbage control desk.
A small distance away, Harvey watched in utter dismay as the Toxic Spew drifted off. It seemed so small that it looked like one of the model spaceships in his bedroom back home.
Then he noticed that he seemed to be getting nearer the ship – and rather quickly … and then worryingly quickly … and then terrifyingly quickly!
Luckily he didn’t have time to take this in before:
Ru-uuu-uuush! CLANG!
Harvey’s space helmet walloped against the Toxic Spew’s massive Megatron 16XL Magno Beam, with enough force to dent the metal, bring tears to his eyes – and knock him out cold.
Totally unaware of what was happening, Harvey dangled from the giant magnet, his space helmet stuck to it like superglue. Slowly the Megatron 16XL swung round to the exit pod and Gizmo grabbed hold of his legs.
‘I’ve got him, Scrummage! Turn off the Magno Beam.’ And when Harvey dropped off the giant magnet, Gizmo hauled him safely inside.
On the command bridge the crew burst out cheering.
‘Good thinking, Scrummage,’ cried Maxie, and much to his surprise she hugged him.
Yargal also tried to give Scrummage one of her slimy hugs, but he was too quick for her and stepped aside. ‘Er … don’t you think you should go and see if the captain’s all right?’ he asked.
So the Medical Officer slithered off, taking Snuffles with her.
You can’t win ’em all
Sometime later, Harvey woke up in the sick room. Yargal loomed over him, dripping green slime (yuck) and gently prodding his face with a slimy tentacle (even more yuck). His head was pounding, and he ached all over. But worse, much worse than this, his legs felt funny, like they were being crushed. What if he couldn’t walk? What if he could never play football again?
‘Yargal! I can’t move my legs!’ he cried.
‘Get off, Snuffles!’ said Yargal and hauled the huge Hazard Hunting Hound off Harvey’s legs and onto the floor.
Harvey sighed with relief and sat up.
‘How are you feeling?’ asked Yargal kindly, putting a large plastic pillow behind his back to prop him up. ‘Could you manage to eat something?’
Harvey knew exactly what he wanted. ‘Can you do: bangers and mash followed by double chocolate birthday cake with chocolate icing, chocolate buttons and mini marshmallows?’
Yargal did her best and a few minutes later proudly presented Harvey with a large, deep pan, double chocolate and sausage pizza with mashed potato, chocolate buttons and marshmallows on top.
Oh well, thought Harvey. You can’t win ’em all.
Where to?
It was calm and peaceful on the command bridge of the Toxic Spew.
Hey, that is new.
Maxie had finally managed to pinpoint their position and the computer was standing by, awaiting captain’s orders, to plot a course back towards Galaxy 43b.
Beyond the grimy vision screens, millions of stars and a dozen strange planets shimmered and shone peacefully in the cosmic darkness.
Gizmo double-checked the repairs to the left-hand engine while Scrummage snoozed with his feet up on the garbage control desk. Maxie was beating the computer at a complicated maze game. The computer was sulking.
The doors to the command bridge slid open and Harvey walked in, followed by Yargal and Snuffles.
‘Anything to report?’ he asked, settling himself into the captain’s chair.
Gizmo stood to attention. ‘Engines all fired up and raring to go, sir!’
Scrummage woke up with a start and almost fell off his seat. ‘Splattering upchuck,’ he cried, leaping up. ‘Welcome back to the bridge, sir.’
Maxie gave him a grin from the flight desk where she was waiting for his orders. ‘So, Captain,’ she said. ‘Where are we heading?’
Harvey didn’t need to give it a second thought. He knew exactly where he wanted to go. So he said: ‘Computer, have you managed to find out how to send me home?’
Is this Earth?
The computer bleeped and its console lights flicked on and off importantly. ‘I’m glad you asked me that, Captain,’ it said smugly. ‘Well, there’s good news and there’s bad news.’
Uh-oh, thought Harvey. I so don’t like the sound of this.
‘The bad news is I haven’t actually found your Interplanetary Postal address. But the good news is that I think I’ve found the tiny little planet you call “Earth”.’
‘You have? Yes!’ cried Harvey, punching the air. Home! He was going home!
The computer continued: ‘If we go towards the poisonous gas clouds of Novum 12 … and turn left at the Star Clusters of Milinia … go over the intergalactic roundabout System 17 … Is the planet you call “Earth” the large orange planet with three moons?’
‘No,’ said Harvey.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh,’ said the computer and bleeped off.
Harvey sighed and slumped back into the captain’s chair in utter disappointment. He was gutted.
‘Bad luck, Captain,’ said Yargal, and she slid a slimy blue tentacle sympathetically onto his arm and patted him. The sleeve got decidedly soggy but he didn’t even notice. “We’ll get you home one day, I’m sure we will.”
Snuffles nudged Harvey’s hand with his meatball nose, and sat and leant against his legs. Harvey ruffled his ears and looked around the chaotic and grubby command bridge of the Toxic Spew.
You know, it’s a funny thing, but sometimes you can look at the same thing twice and the second time you see it very differently.
Harvey saw:
• empty cups and cartons littering the desks
• bits of leftover pizza crust and salad scattered across the floor
• broken instrument panels
• grimy surfaces
• the general tatty state of the place.
But he also saw:
• impressive banks of buttons, switches and joysticks
• curious and strange displays on the monitors
• huge vision screens going round the bridge on three sides.
And beyond all that … beyond his wildest dreams and fantasies, he saw …
ADVENTURE!
‘So, Captain?’ asked Maxie. ‘Again: where to?’
He pulled himself together. There really wasn’t any point moping and brooding.
‘Well, if I can’t go home yet … well … anyone got any ideas?’ he asked.
Scrummage was flicking through some outernet adverts on his monitor.
‘There’s some toxic zorbo glop that needs collecting from the Corpus Pustula Cluster – should be worth a HUGE amount of money,’ said Scrummage.
‘Is it dangerous?’ asked Harvey.
‘Nah!’ said Scrummage, hitching his overalls up over his belly.
‘YES!’ said Gizmo and Maxie.
‘VERY!’ added Yargal, her yellow eyes waggling on their stalks and her blue tentacles quivering.
‘Well, only if you actually get it on your skin … or in your hair … or up your nose … or –’
‘It gives you pustular space pox.’ Maxie cut in. ‘You get boils on your bum, all your hair falls out and you sneeze toxic snot down your nose which melts anything it touches – usually starting with your chin.’
‘Oh, is that all! Well in that case … ’ said Harvey Drew, Captain of the Toxic Spew. ‘Plot a course for the Corpus Pustula Cluster and … let’s get out there!’