Chapter Six:

What, No Tuna?!?!

“Good morning, young Morningstar,” a voice sings in my ear. “Time to wake up. You have a big day ahead of you.”

“Mom?” I ask groggily. “Penny?”

A voice like a tinkling bell laughs. “No, dear, I am your alarm clock.”

“Huh?” I open my eyes. A glowing yellow ball is floating about a foot above my bed. I rub my eyes. It’s still there!

“I see that you are awake,” the voice says.

It’s coming from the ball!

“I shall turn myself off now,” the ball says. “Have a lovely day.” The ball gracefully glides back to the night table, settles down with a nearly soundless plop, and stops glowing. As I reach for it, my door opens and Dad walks in, holding his own yellow ball. We both start laughing. “This is definitely a better way to wake up than Penny pulling open my eyelids!” he says.

“At least I’m not the only one she does that to,” I joke.

“I’m glad someone’s having fun,” a gloomy voice says.

“Pockets?” I sit up. He’s lying curled up at the bottom of the huge bed. I didn’t even feel him there. “Did you sleep here all night? You have your own bedroom, you know.”

“I just want to get back to work,” he complains. “I don’t even know what the team has found on the Galactic recently. They may have uncovered some data that will unravel B.U.R.P. for good. And what am I doing? Judging slog contests and eating too much bread.”

“Remember your new motto about getting into it?”

Pockets just grunts and buries his head.

“Everyone up?” Feemus’ voice echoes through the large suite.

“If I say no, will you leave?” Pockets calls from under his paw.

Feemus races into the room. “I have your clothes.” He holds up three long suit bags and hands one to each of us. Pockets grabs his and goes into the bathroom to put it on, muttering the whole time.

Room service has delivered a delicious breakfast of normal human pancakes, which is a good thing, because I’m so hungry. I wish I’d waited to put my suit on, though. Hopefully no one will notice the line of syrup down my sleeve!

Dad and I walk into the ballroom later feeling pretty good about ourselves. We’re well fed, all dressed up in our spiffy new suits, and ready to have fun. Pockets, on the other hand, is none of those things. He didn’t eat a bite of breakfast, so his suit is now too loose and his head keeps slipping down into the neck hole. Also, he left a trail of crumpled notebook pages between our hotel room and here.

The only one more anxious than Pockets right now is Feemus. He’s dashing around chairs and under tables, making sure everything is exactly how he wants it. He’s adjusting lights, fluffing flower arrangements, and tapping the microphone over and over. The room is filling up with all sorts of well-dressed aliens, many wearing ISF badges, from all over the universe. The largest group by far, though, is the ISF cats from Friskopolus.

“Hey!” I shout, pointing across at a cat animatedly telling a story to a bunch of other cats. “Isn’t that Hector? From planet Tri-Dark?”

“I never met him,” Dad says. “Remember? I was working to fix the taxi for the whole mission. You go say hi. I’m going to see if I can help Pockets finish that speech.”

I run toward the crowd of ISF cats. “Hector!” I shout. “It’s me, Archie. I’m wearing a suit!”

“Archie!” he cries, thrusting out his paw for me to shake it. “I was just talking about you!”

“You were?”

He nods. “I was telling these fellas about how you and Pockets saved Princess Viola. Also that little red dude who’s running around here like his behind is on fire.”

I laugh. “Feemus is definitely a little more nervous than usual today. So, how’s the princess?”

“Great,” he says. “She just beat three princes and a knight in a jousting tournament, then beat all of them at a belching contest.”

“Sounds like her!”

“Yup.”

I want to ask if she remembers me, but I know she doesn’t. That was part of what we had to give up in order to save her.

A screech echoes through the speakers and everyone cringes. “Sorry,” Feemus says. “If you’ll all take your seats, we can get started. I know you’re as anxious as I am to hear from the guest of honor! Please enjoy this film as your salads are being served.”

“Great seeing you, Archie,” Hector says as he heads off to a table in the front. “Let’s catch up later.”

As I turn to find my own table, some yelling and banging from the kitchen catch my attention. I watch as three of the security guards hired by Akbar’s for the event slip into the kitchen. “Come on, Archie,” Dad says, pulling me away. “I’m sure we don’t want to miss a second of this!”

We take our seats across from Pockets’ dad. A seat is empty for Akbar, but so far there’s no sign of him. I’m not sure anyone even knows what he looks like! The lights dim and a screen lowers behind the podium. Pockets as a kitten chasing an electric mouse up a wall fills the screen. Everyone cheers and laughs. He is SOOOOOO cute!!! Penny would LOSE HER MIND. I lean over to Dad. “We’ve GOT to get a copy of this!”

“Already got that covered,” he replies, holding his phone up to the screen.

Pockets reddens and slides his head down through the neck hole of his suit. The waiters begin wheeling around carts with salads on them, but everyone is enjoying the film too much to eat. We watch Pockets grow from a kitten to a cat, and even get to see him solving his first crime. His father chuckles and says, “My wife filmed that from behind a bush!”

More and more clips of him solving crimes play on the screen. Agents begin to murmur among themselves. Who was taking all these videos? Then a clip flies by of Pockets in a space taxi. OUR space taxi!! Dad and I look at each other, agape. Then we turn to look at the only one who could have filmed all this. Feemus! He gets AROUND!

Feemus beams as he watches the video, his antennae swishing happily. When the video ends, the audience stands to applaud. Feemus is practically shaking with excitement as he returns to the microphone. “So as you can all see, our beloved Pilarbing Fangorious—now known as Pockets—has been achieving great things for many years. Now, I know you didn’t come to hear me talk, so—”

“That’s right! We came for Barney’s tuna sandwiches!” a member of a rowdy group of ISF cats shouts out.

Everybody laughs. Feemus wobbles a little bit at the outburst but quickly recovers. “I’m sure you don’t want those as badly as Pockets does! I’ve seen him eat a whole tray at once!”

The audience laughs.

“I will now call the chief ISF officer from Friskopolus to the stage, where he will present his son with this most rare and special award.” Pockets’ father stands up, straightens his tie, and heads toward Pockets. At the same time, four of Akbar’s security guards storm the stage. At first I assume they’re part of the show. But they pass right by the chief and approach Feemus, who is still holding out the mic to Pockets’ dad.

The guards surround Feemus, who looks stunned. “You will have to come with us,” one of them says. “Right now.”

“Is this a joke?” Feemus asks. He cranes his neck around to see into the crowd. “Pockets, did you put them up to this? I’m actually quite touched, but I know everyone’s probably hungry, so…”

Pockets pokes his head back out of his suit and jumps up when he sees all the action on the stage. “What’s going on?”

“Unhand Feemus at once!” the chief demands.

“I’m sorry, sir,” one of the guards says, “but he is under arrest for theft. We have it on film.”

“I didn’t steal anything,” Feemus insists. “You have the wrong guy.”

Pockets’ whole fan club calls out, “He would never ruin Pockets’ big day! He’s innocent!”

“I don’t think so,” the guard says. Then he points a remote control at the screen and a video begins to play.

Security camera footage first shows an empty corridor. Then a large cart appears, like the kind the waiters are pushing with salads. Only this one is full of tuna fish sandwiches! A gasp rises from the crowd as Feemus appears in the frame, pushing the cart straight out of the kitchen!

The video is blurry and it keeps flickering, making Feemus look like he’s walking stiffly and a little awkwardly. The color isn’t great, either. Feemus looks more orange than red at times. The video cuts out for a second, then flickers back on to reveal Feemus wheeling the cart toward the front door of his ship. Right before he enters, he turns, spots the video camera, and—amazingly—smiles! The video freezes up, right there on his guilty face.

The lights in the ballroom blaze on as the crowd jumps to their feet. The ISF cats rush the stage, shouting, “You stole the tuna?”

Pockets does a front handspring over the ISF cats’ heads and lands on the stage. His face is more expressive than it’s been since we got here—ears pointed straight up, eyes wide and focused. I can tell a part of him is furious about the tuna, but that part is overpowered by his happiness at being back in the crime-solving business. “Feemus!” he demands. “Can you explain yourself?”

Feemus only stares at the image of himself on the screen in stunned silence. He shakes his head.

“Where’s the tuna now?” one of the guests shouts.

“Feemus’ ship is no longer docked at Akbar’s,” the guard says. “Therefore, we were unable to recover the sandwiches.” The crowd begins to boo. Dad pulls me close.

The guard holds up his hand and the room quiets down. “We are sorry to interrupt your lunch. We will escort the criminal to the security office and take care of it from there.”

“I’m coming, too,” Pockets says.

“Wait!” the chief shouts.

Pockets stops. His father walks up to him and lays a medal around his neck. “For your courage on planet Canis, honesty, intelligence, and the capture of the Galactic. I’m proud of you, son.”

Pockets lifts the medal with one paw, then lets it fall back against his chest. “Thank you, Father,” he says. “Now I’ve got to go do my job.”

Using one sharp claw, he slices through the front of his suit. It drops to the floor at his feet. With a forward double somersault that I’m not sure is entirely necessary, he rolls off the stage and joins the guards leading Feemus down the aisle.

The crowd parts to let them through. When Feemus reaches me and Dad, he looks up, eye shiny. I think he’s about to start crying, and I don’t blame him. He’s gotten himself in a real pickle. But then he smiles and says, “Pockets is going to investigate me! Me! How exciting is that?”