Herbert and Sammi climbed aboard the TransPodium to find Mayor CROM-WELL looking out over the busy Flee-a-seum. He was giving orders and artistic direction to the hundreds of BizzyBots zipping around the grounds, making finishing touches—hanging banners, filling confetti cannons, and polishing benches in the stands where the humans would watch the Great G’Dalien Flee-Festival.

“Just tell him!” Sammi whispered to Herbert. “We have to get out of here and find Alex!”

“Okay, okay, but we need to break it to him gently,” Herbert said. “It doesn’t help anyone if there’s an all-out panic!”

“Who’s doing all that murmuring back there?” Mayor CROM-WELL said, turning around. “Ah, our beloved AlienSlayers!” The mayor did a quick head count. “One, two—where’s the mouthy one with the bad attitude?”

“I wish I knew.” Herbert glanced nervously up at the sky, watching for signs of attack. He eyed a large bird suspiciously.

“Sir, we have something very important to tell you—”

“Of course! Gotta multitask, however! Lots to do, lots to do!” The mayor hit a controller on his TransPodium. Sammi and Herbert stumbled as the giant mobile stage lurched up into the air.

Sammi and Herbert steadied themselves like surfers riding a crazy wave as Mayor CROM-WELL recklessly steered the TransPodium above the field. They careened toward the oblong-shaped storage unit at the end of the Flee-a-seum and came to a jerking stop just inside, facing the InflataTron dutifully chugging away. Herbert nearly went flying into the half-inflated Klapthorian Winged Death Slug parade floatie, until Sammi grabbed his hand and yanked him back on board.

The inflatable Death Slug bobbed up and down on its rear end while its top half slumped over. Its batlike, leathery wings sagged sadly off its plump, mud-colored back.

“Your honor—” Sammi began.

“Isn’t it gloriously hideous?” The mayor looked off and suddenly pondered, “Or is it hideously glorious?” He thought about it, then sighed proudly. “No matter! Either way, tomorrow this inflatable monster will mock chase the entire G’Dalien population into the Flee-a-seum, where the humans will mock welcome us with open arms. We’ll then symbolically release the Death Slug into the sky and watch it harmlessly float away!”

At that moment, the inflatable slug’s head flopped backward, revealing row after row of teeth circling all the way down its seemingly endless lumpy brown throat.

All three of them shuddered at the sight of it.

“Brrrr,” Mayor CROM-WELL said. “Wouldn’t want to meet one of those in the flesh again. I was a little boy, and I still remember the destruction it caused when the Klapthorians set it loose in our city. We fled just in time.”

He turned to a pale-looking Sammi and Herbert. “But now that you AlienSlayers are here to protect us from any invaders, we’ll never have to flee again!”

Sammi shot Herbert a look. He took a step toward the mayor. “Sir, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but I’m afraid—OW!”

Herbert looked at Sammi. She’d stomped on his foot—hard—and now was holding a finger to her lips.

“Shh.”

Herbert watched in pain and befuddlement as Sammi gestured for him to follow her. Then she suddenly ran to the edge of the TransPodium and launched herself into the air. She landed safely on the storage unit floor, rolled to her feet, and ran out the giant steel doors, onto the field.

Herbert looked up at the mayor, who was artistically directing the BizzyBots to add more fake blood to the parade floatie’s fangs. Herbert belly-crawled to the edge of the TransPodium and clumsily dropped to the ground.

“Ow!” He landed on his stomped foot and hobbled out the warehouse doors, trying to catch up with Sammi.

Mayor CROM-WELL turned around.

“Now then, what is it you have to tell me that’s so important?” He stood staring at an empty TransPodium.

 

Back at the SlayerLair, Sammi was pacing back and forth. Herbert had his hurt foot soaking in a bright purple smoothie.

“We had a plan,” he said. “What happened to our plan?”

“I know I said we should warn them. But you saw that thing! If that slug monster is what’s coming tomorrow, there’s nothing they can do!”

“Sure there is! They could do what they do best—they could flee, proudly! Besides, there’s nothing we can do, either! Or have you forgotten that WE’RE NOT REALLY ALIENSLAYERS?!”

“I know, I know. Let me think.”

“Thinking is my department,” Herbert said. “And I think we have to focus on finding Alex. If only because I can’t wait to personally thank that nitwit for creating this whole mess.”

Sammi looked at Herbert. Her face lit up.

“That’s it,” she said. “Herbert, you’re a genius!”

“Well, duh.” He pulled his dripping, purple foot out of the smoothie and studied it.

Sammi spun around. “SarcasmaTron! Show me the clip of Alex acting like a nitwit!”

“You’ll have to be waaay more specific.”

“The Klapthorian crank call from yesterday! Quickly!”

SarcasmaTron’s HoloScreen beamed Alex’s face into the center of the room, taunting the alien captain. Suddenly, GOR-DONNA leaned into the picture and spoke: “I believe he said, ‘space shrimp.’”

“Right there!” Sammi yelled. “Freeze image!”

“Who’s she?” Herbert asked.

“The one who helped, maybe even tricked Alex into starting all of this,” she said. “SarcasmaTron, enhance.”

“Oh yes, by all means let’s get a closer look at the beauty queen.”

He zoomed in. GOR-DONNA’s ridiculously large, overly made-up face suddenly filled the room. Sammi squinted at it.

“Hey, I know that evil grin. SarcasmaTron, baldify.”

The computer did as asked. GOR-DONNA’s hair disappeared, revealing a bald, even more freakish-looking GOR-DONNA. Sammi peered closer.

“Okay. Now de-makeup. Replace with a nice, healthy G’Dalien grayish-green, please.”

The enhancement revealed a bald, makeup-less G’Dalien. It was GOR-DON, in all his olivey-evil glory.

“That GOR-DON creep?!” Herbert exclaimed. “He’s behind this?”

“Shocker,” SarcasmaTron said.

Sammi turned to Herbert. “GOR-DON is the key to stopping the attack and finding Alex. C’mon. He couldn’t have gone far.”

“Not in those shoes,” SarcasmaTron said.