Now Stinker's returned the shuttle but he still needs help. He's been charged with an urgent mission to find something uniquely "earthly" for a galactic ruler's collection. Even though Karen and Jonathan are still in trouble from last time, they can't refuse Stinker. The trio plunges headlong into a madcap quest through Washington, D.C., with the police and NASA officials hot on their trail. Their funny, fast-paced adventures will charm science fiction and fantasy lovers of all ages.
Now Stinker's returned the shuttle but he still needs help. He's been charged with an urgent mission to find something uniquely "earthly" for a galactic ruler's collection. Even though Karen and Jonathan are still in trouble from last time, they can't refuse Stinker. The trio plunges headlong into a madcap quest through Washington, D.C., with the police and NASA officials hot on their trail. Their funny, fast-paced adventures will charm science fiction and fantasy lovers of all ages.
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Overview
Now Stinker's returned the shuttle but he still needs help. He's been charged with an urgent mission to find something uniquely "earthly" for a galactic ruler's collection. Even though Karen and Jonathan are still in trouble from last time, they can't refuse Stinker. The trio plunges headlong into a madcap quest through Washington, D.C., with the police and NASA officials hot on their trail. Their funny, fast-paced adventures will charm science fiction and fantasy lovers of all ages.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780486828237 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Dover Publications |
| Publication date: | 01/10/2018 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 96 |
| File size: | 915 KB |
| Age Range: | 7 - 10 Years |
About the Author
Pamela F. Service received a bachelor's degree in political science from the University of California and a master's degree in African prehistory from the University of London. Her novels include Winter of Magic's Return, A Question of Destiny, When the Night Wind Howls, Tomorrow's Magic, and The Reluctant God, which won the Society of Children's Book Writers Golden Kite Honor Award.
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
Presidential Audience
Tsynq Yr's skunk nose twitched nervously. In many ways he was happy with his current body, but just now he would have preferred something more impressive. It was not often that an ordinary Sylon Space Corpsman had a private interview with the president of the Sylon Confederacy. He was scared witless.
With his black-and-white plume of a tail spread proudly behind him, Tsynq Yr hoped he looked confident and dignified. The others in the waiting room ignored him.
He tried to imagine what this meeting would be like. No doubt the president would be full of praise. After all he, Tsynq Yr, had brought back that vital information about the planned Zarnk attack. As a result of that unexpected stop at a little out-of-the-way planet, he had also brought back a shipload of animals that have a natural defense against Zarnk, a disintegrating spray, unknown to the Sylons. Now several colonies of these animals had been set up and were happily reproducing themselves. What a boon they'd be on Sylon worlds near the Zarnk border.
This body of his had been plenty useful while arranging that. Tsynq Yr tried to sit up taller and ignore the Sylon next to him whose current body looked like a huge scaly burrito.
He wondered what the president would look like. The only time he'd seen the president before, at a ceremony, he'd been in the body of an elderly Trith. That had been a while ago, so he'd probably moved into something else by now. What would be a useful body for the leader of one of the biggest interstellar governments in the galaxy?
Tsynq Yr's thoughts jolted to a stop as the receptionist called him. Trying to hold his tail in a confident arch, he waddled into the president's office.
Blinking in the bright bluish light, he looked around the large room. In its center stood an oval desk. Behind it spread a cluster of silver rods like a frozen bush, a "chair" for the creature floating upon it. A Nralshi, Tsynq Yr realized. Not a very practical body for a life of action, but for someone who spends most of the time thinking and giving orders, it was ideal.
"Greetings, Honored President," Tsynq Yr thought toward the chair's filmy occupant.
"Greetings to you, Field Operator Tsynq Yr," came the replying thought. The blue-green draperies floating around the body's core waved gently as if in an ocean current. Then they swirled in slightly, and the glowing core shot its light forward. Tsynq Yr felt himself bathed in a cool blue glow.
"So that is what the remarkable creatures you brought back look like."
"Yes, Excellency. The dominant species on that planet is bipedal while those on the next rung are quadrupedal or aquatic."
Wisps of blue green flicked impatiently. "Yes, yes, I am familiar with the reports. Yours and ... the others."
"Others?" Tsynq Yr questioned.
"More reports than you can imagine!" The floating draperies trembled angrily. "What am I to do with you? A maverick troublemaker of the first order, it seems. Brilliant, daring, and absolutely disastrous!"
"Uh ... I don't ..."
"In one operation you save us from a Zarnk attack and secure a new secret weapon, but at the same time you drag us to the brink of war somewhere else."
"I don't ..."
"That remote little planet you 'discovered' was in fact well within Twak territory."
"I didn't ..."
The tendrils tightened, then loosened in a sigh. "I know. You were escaping along the dimensional boundary, lost control, and reappeared there. An accident, but it still was within the Twakish Amalgam."
"I apologize, Excellency, for not understanding the true significance of this, but I've never had much dealings with the Twak."
"That is because the Twak don't want anyone having dealings with them. The Twak are, to say the least, strange. They are eccentric, greedy, reclusive, lazy, and very possessive. What's worse, they are, when they feel like it, very, very dangerous."
The president's filmy extremities had tightened into a dense cloud. "Twakish territory touches ours at several points. The High Gyrn of Twak is now threatening to destroy our border posts if we do not make up for the damage that we — no, that you caused."
The president was not the least bit transparent now. He throbbed a solid angry blue.
Tsynq Yr's stubby legs were trembling. "But all I did was ..."
"All you did was enter Twakish territory without permission, remove several hundred animals from a developing planet, and steal the dominant species' most advanced space vessel. The High Gyrn considers that very close to an act of war. And let me tell you, the Twak may be lazy, but they delight in inventions and they have invented some truly dreadful weapons."
Tsynq Yr's legs gave out totally and he plopped onto the floor. "I ... I am sorry. I didn't mean to ..."
With a sigh, the president rippled himself loose again. Blue-green film floated around the chair. "No, your type never means to cause trouble. You do it by instinct. But now you have a chance to get us out of this by instinct. The High Gyrn says that if we don't want our bases destroyed, we can give the same 'creature' who caused this mess the chance to make up for it."
"Meaning me?" Tsynq Yr asked, lying flat and ruglike on the floor.
"Meaning we are sending you to the High Gyrn of Twak for further instructions."
Feeling that already he was as good as eaten and digested, Tsynq Yr dragged himself to his feet and tried to look noble. "Yes, Excellency, I understand. Should I, do you think, change bodies first?"
The president wafted free of the chair and floated around the little skunk, faint streamers trailing behind the glowing core. "No, we don't want to appear threatening, and I cannot imagine a body that appears less threatening than that one. But don't even think of trying that built-in chemical spray on the Twak." Then came a wry laugh. "It probably wouldn't work anyway."
"Understood, Excellency. When am I to leave?"
"Immediately," snapped the reply, as the president swooped back to his chair. "I do have a few other problems in running this Confederacy besides the ones you have created."
Mentally mumbling apologies, Tsynq Yr turned and was scuttling out when a parting presidential thought reached him. "If you live through this, Corpsman, do visit me again. You still are owed some rewards, you know."
As Tsynq Yr hurried through the waiting room he tried not to let his tail drag. But his thoughts were not cheery. "Rewards — oh, right. If I live through this. Why did I choose to go into the Space Corps? Think of all the jobs and all the species in the universe. I could have moved into the body of a Bulga gardener and spent a long, happy life tending mushrooms."
Outside the presidential offices he caught a flittership, wrapped his tail around him for comfort, and headed to the spaceport.
CHAPTER 2
The High Gym of Twak
From space, the planet Twak was a yellow-orange ball. There were no oceans, but its surface was gouged by long green lakes, and here and there Tsynq Yr caught the glint of a city. As Twak Space Central had instructed, he left the Earth shuttle he'd been towing in the planet's orbit and piloted his small Sylon ship toward the capital city.
During the trip he had been learning what he could about the Twak. By all accounts they were just plain odd. They loosely controlled thousands of star systems but didn't do anything with them except keep outsiders away, encourage trade among the worlds, and collect various oddments from them. They didn't get out much, and left most of their government duties to subject species. The average Twak spent its time thinking, collecting things, and eating. It was the eating part that worried Tsynq Yr.
At the Twakish spaceport, his ship was met by a peculiar little trolley. It had three round open-air cars — red, yellow, and green — that ran on big blue balloon tires. What pulled it was a jointed mechanical animal with six legs.
Making little tooting sounds, the trolley carried Tsynq Yr past buildings of all shapes and colors. A huge upside-down yellow pyramid towered over a building that looked like a fat green candle with lots of drips. Here and there Tsynq Yr glimpsed what he thought must be Twaks — large wispy lumps of hair.
The trolley took him through tunnels, up ramps, and over bridges until he realized he was now inside some huge building. He rolled through rooms of different shapes and sizes, some empty, some full of things. All sorts of things.
One room was lined with shelves and ledges all holding mechanical devices. Some ticked, some whistled, some flashed, and some tossed balls back and forth. Some seemed to work by steam, others by clockwork, and yet others by antigravity. And none seemed to be doing anything worth doing.
Another room was crammed with statues, big and small, representing all sorts of species. The room next to it held devices that produced what Tsynq Yr guessed was supposed to be music. The clashing mix of different tunes, rhythms, squeaks, booms, and squeals set his fur on edge. After that came a room overflowing with marbles. A force field held these little balls back from the trolley's path in great cliffs, but even so, hundreds of colored spheres rolled and bounced out of their way as the trolley chugged through.
"Eccentric" is hardly the word, Tsynq Yr thought, as they entered a room filled with things that seemed to have nothing at all to do with one another. At the center of the room the trolley suddenly stopped beside a bed of nails, in the middle of which stretched a tangled mass of yellowish white hair. A Twak?
It didn't move, it didn't say anything. Hesitantly, Tsynq Yr stepped from the trolley, which lazily rolled away. Facing the hairy thing, he sat down, wrapped his tail around him, and thought politely, "Hello."
The thought that boomed back into his mind nearly bowled him over. "Hello, hello, hello! Welcome to Twak. Don't have many visitors, you know. Don't want many visitors. But you are different, little Sylon. You have got some things to set right, right?"
"Uh, yes. Perhaps I do. May I ask if I have the honor to be addressing the High Gyrn of Twak?"
"You may. Yes, you may."
"Am I?"
"Are you what?"
"Addressing the High Gyrn," Tsynq Yr said, trying to keep calm.
"Indeed you are. What did you think, silly creature? All the others are far too busy with things to bother themselves running this place. That's my job, High Gyrning. Running this bunch of planets — and keeping outsiders from making trouble."
Tsynq Yr cringed at the threatening tone. "I am truly sorry. I didn't mean to make any trouble."
"Why should I bother with what some Sylon did or did not mean? What I am bothered by is what bothers me. People coming where they are not invited and snatching away a shipload of Twakish subjects, that bothers me. For that matter, Sylons bother me, too — can't even decide on your shapes. By the way, is that one of the native animals you're in?"
"Y ... yes, it is, but I just borrowed it. When I get a chance I could give it back and move into something else."
"No, no, I wouldn't dream of inconveniencing you. And you can keep the others, too. Really quite clever of you to find a spray that wastes Zarnk. If there's one thing I hate worse than Sylon, it's Zarnk. Gross, nasty, mean things."
Tsynq Yr felt his mind spinning. "So you don't mind me taking the skunks after all?"
"Of course I mind, even if it was a smashing good idea. Now you'll just have to make up for it, that's all."
"Uh, yes. How?"
"Well, first, you do have to take back their spaceship. You know, I hardly know a thing about that planet — Earth, is it? It's so far on the fringes, it's really too much of a bother for any of us to visit. Why, we haven't even got anything from there for our collections. Except recordings, of course."
"Recordings?"
"Yes, some years ago they started broadcasting entertainment programs. And jolly entertaining they are, too. Look, here's my library."
The hair ball shrugged sideways and bumped against a console screen. The screen lit up with a rolling list of titles in Earth languages. Tsynq Yr recognized several from seeing them on Karen's TV.
The High Gyrn chuckled to itself and continued. "Very entertaining, indeed, but recordings are not the same as things. You can fill a room with things. You can touch them, you can count them. And I want some thing from Earth."
"Well, why don't you just go there and collect something?"
The creature gave a mental snort. "We like collections, not collecting. We send out collectors, but just now most of our worlds that-are into space travel are busy with wars or trade or something. I don't like to bother them. Of course, we've collected enough of their weapon inventions to blow up your border worlds if we choose. But that wouldn't really gain us much, would it?"
"No! No, not a thing."
"Precisely. And it is things I so want. So, here's the deal: I won't blow up your bases if you go back to this Earth place, return their little spaceship, and bring me back something."
"What exactly?"
"Oh, a surprise. I love surprises! Of course, it had better be the right surprise."
Tsynq Yr's whiskers twitched nervously. "Any clues as to what that might be?"
"How pushy you are! It has to be something special, something unique, something very Earth. As you can see, I have quite a lot of things already. I wouldn't want any duplicates or same-idea things, would I?"
Tsynq Yr sagged at the thought of all the rooms and rooms of things he had just seen. And that had probably only been a fraction of the collection.
"Come now, it's time you were off," the hairy tangle said, settling comfortably into its spike bed. "All this talk of little Earth has got me hankering to watch one of their shows. I'd invite you to stay but you haven't the time, you know. If I don't hear from you in a bit, I think I will blow up a few of your bases. We've just collected some new weapons that I'm really itching to try."
"And how long is 'a bit'?"
"Until I get tired of waiting, of course. Now do be off."
Abruptly, the little trolley bumped Tsynq Yr from behind. In a daze he climbed in and watched in despair as the thing took him through a new series of rooms bulging with collections.
Once in his ship he wasted no time before taking off, putting a towing beam on the shuttle, and laying course for Earth. Finished with the busywork, he had time to think. And his thoughts were not good.
"Why didn't that creature just eat me or pour melted bronze over me and add me to his collection? It would have saved time. What was that phrase Karen and Jonathan had? 'How on Earth' am I going to do this?"
CHAPTER 3
Troubles
On the couch in Jonathan's house, Karen and Jonathan sat with eyes glued to the TV. Occasionally one would dig a hand into the popcorn bowl, scattering a few kernels for Sancho waiting on the rug.
"What you two watching?" Jonathan's father asked as he walked through the room.
"Shh. Star Raiders Six," his son said.
"But you've already seen that movie, haven't you?"
"Twice. But this is the first time it's been on TV."
An ad for toilet cleaner came on. Karen, Jonathan, and Sancho padded into the kitchen for a refill on popcorn.
"I still think Star Raiders Seven is the best," Karen said. "It's got all that stuff with dragons."
"Nah," Jonathan insisted, "the best is Star Raiders Three with the berserk computers. They've all got their good parts though."
"Well, the best part in any of them is the escape from the Spider Swamp in Four."
"No, it was the gladiator fight in Two. Or maybe the mud flood in Five."
"Aren't they ever going to stop making those movies?" his father asked, rummaging in the refrigerator. "That actor who plays the lead Raider must be as old as the hills by now."
"Trevor Conway?" Karen said. "He's not much older than you are."
"Like I said," he laughed, "an old crock. But if I were Trevor Conway, I'd retire with my millions and stop leaping around in front of a camera."
"He can't do that!" Jonathan protested. "No one else can play Alex Greystone, and without Commander Greystone Star Raiders is nothing."
"Right," Karen added. "Star Raiders Nine is being released this summer, and there are rumors of a Star Raiders Ten coming next year. So Conway has to stay on."
Jonathan's father grunted and left the room. "You'd think you two would have had enough of space by now. But at least Greystone and the others are human."
"Lieutenant Cybo is part robot," Karen corrected him.
Jonathan headed back to the TV, yelling over his shoulder, "And my favorite is Zan, the winged Kiptelan."
"But at least there are no skunks," his father called as the screen door banged behind him.
Karen and Jonathan looked at each other, then settled back to watch the movie. Staring at the screen, Karen said, "Your parents are just like mine. They wish the whole thing last fall had never happened."
"Yeah, but at least they admit it did," Jonathan said, pushing his glasses back along his nose, "not like those NASA people telling the press that they didn't see what they saw."
Angrily, he shook a fistful of popcorn at the TV. Sancho scarfed up the kernels that flew loose. "This sort of stuff isn't just movies. It's really happening out there. Stinker may not look like Commander Greystone, but real adventures happen in space all the time. Those people are just afraid to admit it."
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Stinker's Return"
by .
Copyright © 1993 Pamela F. Service.
Excerpted by permission of Dover Publications, Inc..
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