As the Toxic Spew zipped silently across Galaxy 43b, the bridge crew thought about what they’d do with all the cosmic cash they would have once they’d sold the Techno-tium. They’d be rich!
‘I’d buy the new Cygnus 7 single-seater shuttle craft with its revolutionary TripTronic gearing system,’ said Senior Engineering Officer Gizmo longingly.
‘Cool,’ nodded Pilot Officer Maxie at the flight controls.
‘I’d have a personal 3D pizza printer and unlimited supplies of mozzarella, chocolate, banana custard and chilli sauce,’ said Rubbish Officer Scrummage greedily.
‘Oh, gross!’ laughed Maxie. ‘I’d go for a Cassini Personal HeliDroid, with inbuilt VidiScape gaming system, subsonic sound, 3V-360 VisionVisor, multi-player, multi-platform and multi-universe enabled features, downloadable cosmic content capability, pangalactic performance power enhancers and the Stella BonusBox.’ Then, finally stopping to breathe, she added, ‘What about you, Captain?’
‘I’d buy Manchester United,’ said Harvey wistfully.
The bridge crew exchanged puzzled looks and Maxie was just about to ask Harvey what a ‘Manchester United’ was when the computer cut in.
‘Oh, don’t ask me then!’ it blurted out emotionally. ‘Don’t bother to include me in the game.’
‘Sorry,’ said Harvey, who hadn’t realised the computer wanted to join in. ‘Er … what would you like?’
‘Not saying,’ snipped the computer:
a) you’re just being polite
b) you’re not really interested and
c) it’s too late.’
And it bleeped off in a huff.
Zooming through outer space at Cosmic Speed 8 the Toxic Spew didn’t take long to get to the broken-down cargo ship.
Harvey’s eyes were glued to the front vision screen ahead. He had loads of model spaceships and UFOs pinned to his bedroom ceiling back home, but he wanted to see what a real cargo spaceship would actually look like.
Eventually he saw it looming up ahead. It appeared to be a Day-Glo yellow round, flat disc with a domed middle.
‘It’s a flying saucer!’
‘Er, no,’ said Gizmo confused. ‘It’s a SupaCosmicCargo ship. Well, technically that bit’s the freight container. The cargo ship itself is a tiny little tug on the other side.’
It’s hard to get an idea of size in outer space. Because there isn’t anything bobbing around to give you a sense of scale, like say, a Blue Whale or an ice cream van or a small clear plastic ruler.
Harvey had seen the cargo ship from a distance – about two thousand cosmic kilometres to be precise – and so the cargo freighter looked very small. But as the Toxic Spew flew nearer and nearer he saw it was huge, improbably huge.
(You might like to know that technically it wasn’t ‘Huge’ – it was ‘Quite Large’.
For a spaceship to be classed as ‘Huge’ by the Intergalactic Travel and Transport Pact it has to be 500 metres long, 300 metres wide and 100 metres high, and have shops, a skating rink, burger and pizza takeaways and a 3V holo-screen cinema with Q4 sound and three kinds of popcorn.
The pangalactic holiday cruisers from the Gallobium Galaxy are so massive you have to catch a bus to get from the command bridge to the loo.)
Maxie hauled back the flight controls, flicked a few switches and set the Toxic Spew to auto-orbit. As they rounded the giant Day-Glo yellow container they could see the SupaCosmicCargo ship itself. It was a tiny little tug, way smaller than the Toxic Spew.
It might be tiny, but it was the coolest thing Harvey had ever seen.
The model spaceships that hung from Harvey’s bedroom ceiling were complicated shapes with lots of sticky out bits and added-on details in an effort to make them look real.
But this ship was totally smooth on the outside and was basically just a triangle with a point at the front. The two side points of the triangle were bent up at the ends and looked a bit like wings.
It was completely flat on the underside, but the top was domed and, wrapped around the front and sides at the very top, was a huge vision screen.
It was sleek, it was simple, it was awesome.
And also, improbably tiny.
It didn’t seem possible to Harvey that such a small ship could tow something so vast.
(But then he’s new to the job so he probably doesn’t understand the laws of friction in space travel. And I bet you don’t either.
Look, if you don’t like maths you can miss out the next bit. But if everyone on Earth does that, then how will your tiny little planet ever get to grips with interstellar space travel? I’ll make it simple and please at least try to understand:
Push + Friction = Slow, Slow, Slow … Stop
Push – Friction = Go, Go, Go … Go
Now concentrate, because this bit is critical: There is no friction in space. So once you give something a shove, it just keeps on going.
See – it’s not that tricky, is it? It’s hardly rocket science. Oh hang on, yes it is.)
Harvey ordered the computer to contact the cargo ship. Actually, he had to ask very nicely since the computer was in such a stroppy mood.
‘Go ahead, Captain,’ said the computer. ‘Ship-to-ship SpaceTime is connected and I have taken the liberty of turning on Intergalactic GarbleTranslate so you can understand each other.’
‘Thank you,’ said Harvey calmly, but his mind had suddenly gone a complete blank. He’d never done this before. But of course he didn’t want the crew to know that. What on earth, or rather what in Galaxy 43b, was he actually supposed to say?
Gizmo gave an embarrassed cough, Scrummage mouthed ‘Come on’ and Maxie rolled her eyes.
As captain of the All Stars it’d been Harvey’s job to talk to the referee, and sometimes in some pretty awkward situations. And he’d always done pretty well at it – he had a knack of being polite and sticking to the point. So he pulled himself together and said confidently: ‘This is Captain Harvey Drew, Commander of the Intergalactic Garbage Ship the Toxic Spew. How can we help you?’
There was a beat of silence then a thin, crisp voice said:
‘The SupaCosmicCargo Delivery Company thanks you for your prompt response. Our shields are down and you may transport aboard. Please note this Special Offer ends in five minutes and be advised the SupaCosmicCargo Delivery Company accepts no responsibility for visitors. Terms and conditions apply. Always read the small print.’
‘Er, thank you,’ said Harvey.
Gizmo strode purposefully over to the captain’s chair. ‘Assuming command in your absence, Captain,’ he said pompously.
Scrummage had left his post at the garbage control desk and was standing by, itching to transport aboard. ‘Well come on, Captain!’
‘Right,’ said Harvey, going to stand next to him. ‘Computer, I’d be grateful if you could transport Officer Scrummage and me onto the SupaCosmicCargo ship.’
‘With pleasure!’ replied the computer sweetly.
‘Oh please!’ snorted Maxie. ‘Fine captain you’re turning out to be. Can’t even order the ship’s computer around!’
But Harvey knew the computer could be a bit careless at transporting. So he didn’t want to risk upsetting it.
There was an irritatingly high whining noise that made Harvey wince and he braced himself.
SKREEE-E-E-EEEEH!
‘Standby, Captain!’ yelled Scrummage above the noise. ‘Oh, by the way, they’re Zinians from the planet X-Zin cum Delta, so for goodness’ sake try not to over-react.’ (Harvey had fainted, actually fainted, the first time he ever saw Yargal. And the astounded crew would never let him forget it.)
The command bridge of the Toxic Spew wobbled and then sort of melted around them … and they found themselves looking at the command bridge of the SupaCosmicCargo ship.
But from the outside of the ship!
‘AAAAAAAARGH!’ screamed Harvey and Scrummage.