Chapter One

Awash with litter

The Toxic Spew is the grottiest, grubbiest spaceship in Galaxy 43b. Frankly, everybody in the entire Known Universe, and Beyond knows that it’s a disgustingly filthy, tatty old pile of junk.

If you sat in the shabby black captain’s chair in the middle of the command bridge you’d be gobsmacked by the state of the place. It’s awash with litter – empty pizza boxes, crushed drinks cartons and sweet wrappers. And you’d be pretty careful where you put your hands because the control desks are covered with horrible sticky black grime.

The deck is so slimy with dregs of spilt drinks and slops of tomato sauce that the crew’s space boots stick to it and make a slurpy, sucky noise as they walk along.

The stench of rotting rubbish is so gross I’m not even going to describe it because it’d make your eyes water so much you wouldn’t be able to read.

You would think the captain would do something about it, wouldn’t you?

But then you’re from Earth, aren’t you? And I don’t want to be rude, but hey, what do you know?

Which explains why, as this story starts (on Novaday the 92nd of Luna), the crew are sitting round the command bridge having a galaxy-class whinge.

Squabbling on the command bridge

‘It’s all so tedious,’ groaned Senior Engineering Officer Gizmo clutching at his short multicoloured hair. ‘Emptying countless tubs of toilet waste from pangalactic starships or scooping up tons of rocket trash or toxic gloop from the HyperspaceWays.’

‘And it’s so pointless,’ moaned Pilot Officer Maxie sitting with her elbows on the flight desk, her purple face cupped in her hands. ‘I mean as soon as we suck up  … ’

‘Vacuum up!’ corrected Scrummage. As Chief Rubbish Officer he was very touchy about the ship’s garbage kit. Not so touchy that he didn’t mind putting his filthy space boots up on the garbage control desk.

Maxie shot him a withering look with her bright turquoise eyes and carried on. ‘As soon as we suck up one pool of revolting toxic gloop then an even more disgusting one drifts in from somewhere else.’

Scrummage leant back in his seat, his scruffy multicoloured ponytail hanging limply from his balding head. He raised one white eyebrow and said  … 

(Hang on. You did notice that the crew have purple faces and multicoloured hair, white eyebrows and turquoise eyes, didn’t you? And you’ve probably even worked out they’re not from Earth.

But I bet you didn’t know they’re from the planet Zeryx Minor, did you, Smartypants?

It’s not your fault of course. You don’t study ‘The A–Z of Intergalactic Life Forms’ in Earth schools, do you? And I bet you can’t even download it from the Outernet.

You must feel horribly left out in your remote corner of the universe.)

‘Look, it might not be the most glamorous job’, said Scrummage. ‘But  … ’

‘Glamorous? It’s ghastly!’ Gizmo butted in, sneering down his rather hooked nose.

‘As Chief Rubbish Officer, may I point out that space junk is a serious danger to interplanetary traffic. We do a vital job.’

‘No, we do a rubbish job  …  and you are a Rubbish Officer.’

Maxie laughed.

Fight, fight, fight!

‘Gentlemen!’ said Harvey in a warning tone. Scrummage and Gizmo were heading for a spat and he wanted to nip it in the bud.

‘It’s daring and dangerous!’ exclaimed Scrummage.

It’s disgusting and dirty,’ sniffed Gizmo. ‘It’s also, revolting and repulsive, gruesome and gross. Like you.’

Scrummage swung his legs angrily off the control desk and hitched up his filthy green and yellow overalls over his vast belly. ‘Right! That’s it!’ he snorted, storming over to Gizmo.

‘Fight, fight, fight!’ chanted Maxie.