Chapter Seven

Oooops!

Harvey and Scrummage clung onto the massive front vision screen wipers of the SupaCosmicCargo ship for dear life.

‘HEEEEEEELP!’ they screamed.

Harvey’s mind flooded with fear and questions. How were they going to get into the spaceship? How long could they survive without air? And what if the Zinians turned the screen wipers on?

Fighting back panic he turned to Scrummage and saw his eyes were wide open in terror, but he had clamped his mouth shut. So Harvey shut his mouth and concentrated on keeping the precious air he did have in his lungs er  …  inside his lungs.

He forced himself to let go of the wiper with one hand and used it to hammer frantically on the plasti-glass screen. Scrummage copied him.

THUMP-THUMP-THUMP!

BANG-BANG-BANG!

Dying to breathe

Harvey was desperate to breathe in. He felt his eyes glazing over and he began to see stars (no not real stars, the ones you see when you’re out of oxygen and about to pass out.)

Through the vision screen they could see two tall, slim Zinians.

Harvey battled back the urge to shout:

‘HELP!’

knowing that it would be the last word he ever uttered. Keeping his mouth clamped tight he went:

‘MMMMMMMMMMMMMM!’

and pounded even more feverishly:

THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP!

BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG!

Finally, the Zinians glanced up. They were slightly surprised to find their visitors on the outside. But they were fully trained interplanetary cargo couriers and nothing shocked them. Within seconds they had efficiently transported Harvey and Scrummage safely inside.

Phew!

Harvey crouched doubled-up on the floor, panting hard and suffering the worst stitch cramps ever. Scrummage was collapsed in a heap nearby. Frantically and thankfully they gulped down cool oxygen from the ship’s air conditioning system.

But since Harvey was match fit it didn’t take him long to recover and start looking around. He was a bit surprised to find they were in a small cool cubicle with gleaming white walls and no obvious door.

‘What the  … ?’ he started to say, but was cut off when –

SPLOOOOOOSH!

He and Scrummage were suddenly and completely drenched head to foot by a powerful jet spray of water – fresh pine, but with a hint of lemon and lime.

‘What the  … ?’ Harvey tried again, but was cut off again as  … 

WHOOOOOOOOSH!

They were blasted by gale-force hot air. It was like being blow dried by hurricane.

When they were completely dry it stopped. Scrummage’s uniform, which was usually utterly filthy, was now completely spotless and freshly laundered. And his multicoloured ponytail that usually hung limp and greasy at the back of his balding head, looked immaculate.

Scrummage took one look at Harvey and burst out laughing. Every strand of Harvey’s bright red curly hair was standing on end. He looked ridiculous.

‘Sorry, Captain,’ laughed Scrummage, ‘I should have warned you the Zinians are a bit fussy about hygiene!’

SupaCosmic clean

Before Harvey could reply, the white doors of the shower unit slid back to reveal a brilliantly lit corridor with shiny white walls and floor, and a remote voice said:

‘The SupaCosmicCargo Delivery Company welcomes you aboard this SupaCosmicCargo ship. Please make your way to the bridge by following the blue direction arrows on the floor. The SupaCosmicCargo Delivery Company accepts no responsibility for you during your visit. Thank you.’

Stepping out of the cubicle they followed the line of arrows along the squeaky-clean walkway. Harvey doing his best to smarm his hair down as they went. Peering through a spotlessly clean plasti-glass door on the right, Harvey saw an astonishingly clean galley lined with galaxy-class computerised cooking equipment. The only thing he recognised was a stack of white poly cups and some plastic-looking cutlery (all white, obviously). There was something that looked a bit like a microwave but with computerised controls and a joystick! Blimey! thought Harvey, that takes playing with your food to a whole new level!

A bit further along he glanced through another plasti-glass door at the sleeping quarters. They were utterly spotless with pure white walls and floors and white bunks with white covers. It was hard to make out where the walls started and the floors finished. Harvey was beginning to think the Zinians were overdoing the white theme a bit.

SupaCosmic cool

The last door on the left was labelled: Playroom. Playroom?! thought Harvey. He looked in. It was completely empty, except for a small white remote control device and a visor on the floor.

(Sorry to break into the tour of the Zinian ship – but you have absolutely no idea what Harvey’s looking at, do you?

Actually I’ve just realised, those of you who were concentrating at the beginning of Chapter Six, might just guess.

It’s a VidiScapeRoom – only one of the coolest things in the entire Known Universe, and Beyond!

Now, I know you do have some (actually pretty primitive) virtual reality games on your little planet – but believe me this is AWESOME.

You can invent and play out any scenario you want – anything and anywhere – just by using your imagination!

Cool or what!? I bet you can’t wait for gaming on your world to catch up.)

Harvey moved on. He suddenly realised he couldn’t smell anything – except improbably fresh air. The ‘air’ on the Toxic Spew is disgustingly smelly and stale. It tastes like it’s been breathed in and out thousands of times already. Which  …  er  …  it has of course. But the air on this ship smelled as fresh as the kind you get on a cold, crisp snowy day. And the ship was almost totally silent, except for a gentle busy humming sound and the clunking of their feet on the metallic floor.

Harvey was impressed.

SupaCosmic class

The SupaCosmicCargo ship is tiny, so it only took a few moments to reach the bridge. The doors slid open silently to reveal two Zinians seated at the flight desk.

Harvey was gobsmacked.

(Since you’re from Earth I’m guessing you’ve never met Zinians from the planet X-Zin cum Delta.

So to help you picture the scene, Zinians are basically humanoid, basically blue and basically  …  um, and I’m trying to find a polite way of saying this  …  pointy with rather sharp edges.

Their smart blue SupaCosmicCargo Delivery Company uniforms have sharp shoulder pads, which make their entire upper bodies er  …  triangular.)

To be fair to Harvey, he was less gobsmacked by the sight of two bright blue triangular aliens than he was by the sight of the command bridge itself.

Banks of monitors and switches, buttons and levers covered every wall. And everything was sleek, shiny and squeaky clean. Oh, and, you’ve guessed it: white!

It was impressive.

It was classy.

It was everything the Toxic Spew wasn’t.

One of the Zinians stood up smartly. ‘The SupaCosmicCargo Delivery Company is happy to hand over responsibility for the cargo instantly,’ he said.

‘Thank you!’ said Scrummage. ‘Um, do you happen to know how much Techno-tium there is?’ he asked casually.

‘Negative,’ replied the Zinian. ‘The SupaCosmicCargo Delivery Company is not responsible for:

the quantity,

the colour,

the existence of the cargo.

Or feeding, watering or exercising the cargo.’

Briskly he handed Harvey a smart white digipad and a cool white metal stylo. ‘The SupaCosmicCargo Delivery Company requests you sign here to take responsibility for the cargo.’

‘Glittering upchuck!’

Harvey signed.

A new page instantly scrolled up.

‘Sign here to take responsibility of the freight container.’ Harvey did so  …  and then carried on signing for what seemed to be about ten minutes  … 

‘Sign here to say you are not insane.

‘Here to enter the prize drawer to win a holiday on X-Zin cum Delta (off-peak season only).

‘Here to say you’ve read our terms and conditions.’

‘Er  …  should I just read them?’ asked Harvey.

The Zinian gave him a sharp look. ‘Nobody ever reads them – they only sign to say that they have. They’re 148 pages long and no pictures.’

Harvey signed and the Zinian carried on.

‘Sign here to say you are happy to get our advertising SpaceMails.

‘Here to say you are over 18.’

‘But I’m not,’ said Harvey.

‘You don’t have to be,’ said the Zinian. ‘You only have to say that you are.’

‘Er  …  OK,’ said Harvey, signing.

‘And finally sign here and select your home planet from the drop-down menu.’

Harvey signed and then scrolled down the list of planets. ‘Ah,’ he said.

The Zinian raised a sharp angled eyebrow. ‘Problem?’

‘My planet isn’t on the list.’

The Zinians gasped.

‘Glittering upchuck!’ Scrummage nearly exploded with frustration.