The Training Master

by Mark Crilley

  “Thank ya, Gax,” said Spuckler, struggling to maintain his control over the ship. “I hope every-body’s got them seat belts buckled, ’cause I reckon we’re in for a pretty rough landing.”

  The closer we got to Virpling Canyon, the wilder the astroshuttle’s movements became. Spuckler wasn’t pressing the brakes, though. On the contrary, he shifted the astroshuttle into its highest gear and gunned the accelerator.

  “Spuckler, you maniac!” cried Mr. Beeba as the ship nearly smashed into a huge outcropping of stone. “You’re supposed to be slowing down, not speeding up!”

  “No can do, Beebs,” said Spuckler. “I got a plan.”

  “A plan!” Mr. Beeba shrieked as the ship glanced off a wall of stone and whizzed through a narrow ravine. “Your so-called plan is going to kill us all!”

  “Nope,” said Spuckler. “It’s gonna nearly kill us all. That’s the sign of a real good plan!”

  Soon the ship began swerving and lurching so violently it was impossible to see what was going on. I shut my eyes, held on to my seat, and braced myself for a crash.

  FLOOOOOOOoooooooom

  Spuckler killed the engine the moment the bottom of the astroshuttle began to skid across the ground. The windows turned yellow orange as we tunneled through a big, thick dust cloud of our own making. The ceiling rattled and the walls groaned. We kept skidding until we slowed to a crawl and gradually came to a complete stop.

  All at once the ship became dead quiet. There wasn’t a sound apart from the winds of Yorbi whistling by outside as the dust began to clear.

  “Welcome to Virpling Canyon,” said Spuckler, turning and tipping an imaginary bus driver’s cap. “Please watch yer step as you exit the vehicle.”

  Mr. Beeba’s grumbling turned to a gasp as we jumped out and saw that Spuckler had somehow managed to make the astroshuttle skid all the way to the very edge of Virpling Canyon. The nose of the ship was even poking over the edge a little. If we’d gone even a few feet farther, we’d have all plunged to our deaths.

  “Wow, Spuckler,” I said. “You weren’t kidding when you said you might nearly kill us all.”

  “Actually, I was,” Spuckler said as he peered down into the canyon. “I was figurin’ we’d come to a stop way back there,” he added, pointing to a spot about a hundred yards behind us. “But hey, no harm done, right?”

  Mr. Beeba shuddered and said nothing, evidently having run out of variations on the word lunatic.

  “All right,” I said, “we’re here. Now we’ve got to get to the Canyon Cruiser as quickly as we can. Who knows how much time the training masters have left.”

  Gax led the way around the edge of the cliffs to the Canyon Cruiser boarding station. The winds increased the farther we went, and by the time the station came into view it felt like we were making our way through a small tornado.

  Finally we reached the entrance to the building, which served as a very welcome shelter from the storm. Inside there were several rows of benches, a ticket office, and a concession stand, all empty. On one side of the room, before a window overlooking the canyon, was a group of about a dozen men with green skin and big yellow eyes: the Yorbians who were in charge of the Canyon Cruiser. They were surrounded by reporters, most of whom were taking photographs and asking a barrage of questions. When the Yorbians saw us, they pointed excitedly.

  “They’re here! They’re here!”

  The reporters immediately swarmed to our side, snapping at us with their strange alien cameras.

  One of the Yorbians cut through the crowd to greet us. “Thank goodness you’re here! Which one of you is the leader?” he said. Spuckler and Mr. Beeba pointed at me and the Yorbian shook my hand vigorously. “It’s a miracle that you made the trip from the planet Wezzlo so quickly! I really don’t know how you did it.”

  The planet Wezzlo?

  Before I could say anything in response, the Yorbian turned to the reporters and spoke loudly and triumphantly. “Ladies and gentlemen, the situation is now very much under control. This is the crew of space patrollers we have called in to bring the passengers back to safety. I have every confidence in them. They are from the planet Wezzlo, and have glorious record of successful rescue missions under their belts.”

  The reporters shouted questions and there was an explosion of flashbulbs.

  I shot a glance at Spuckler and Mr. Beeba. It was clearly a case of mistaken identity, but under the circumstances explaining who we really were seemed like a waste of precious time. I turned to the Yorbian and put on my best professional face.

  “So, uh, if you can brief us on the situation, we’ll get to work right away.”

  “But of course, of course.”

  The Yorbian led us through the crowd to the window. Through it we could see a gigantic cable stretching from one side of the canyon to the other, and, hundreds of yards away, the Canyon Cruiser itself. It was like one of those cable cars you see sometimes at ski resorts, the kind that carries sight-seers straight up to the top of a mountain.

  “It’s this sudden sandstorm that’s created this mess,” said the Yorbian. “It came from out of nowhere just as the Canyon Cruiser’s maiden voyage began. You can see the damage it’s caused already.”

  I could see it, all right. The cruiser was supposed to be attached to the cable in three places. One of its connectors had broken, and a second was severely damaged. The whole ship was now swaying perilously from side to side, and in danger of plummeting to the bottom of the canyon.

  “No wonder they’re having problems getting out of that thing,” I said. “Every move they make could snap that second connector.”

  “Quite right,” said the Yorbian. “To make matters worse, a twisted girder is blocking the escape hatch in the roof. There’s really no way for them to get out on their own.”

  “All right, come on,” I said to the Yorbian. “You’ve got to get us up to the cable so we can climb across it.”

  “Right this way,” said the Yorbian, leading us up a stairwell to the roof.

  “But Akiko,” said Mr. Beeba as we made our way up the steps, “in these winds we’ll never be able to hold on to that cable. We’ll get blown off into the canyon before we get even halfway across.”

  “There’s a chance of that happening,” I said. “I won’t deny it. But it’s a risk we’re going to have to take if we’re going to rescue the training masters.”

  When we got to the roof of the building, the wind was stronger than ever. Sand stung my face, and I had to lean to one side just to keep from being blown over. The wind made a loud and eerie noise, like the yowling of a pack of wolves.

  “There!” shouted the Yorbian, pointing at a huge tower from which the cable was suspended. “That’s the way up to the cable.”

  Getting to the cable looked simple enough; there was a ladder leading straight up to it. But Mr. Beeba was right about the wind. It would make crawling across the top of the cable almost impossible.

  “Don’t worry,” I said to the Yorbian as we left him behind us. “We’ve got everything under control.”

  “Thank you!” he yelled before going back to deal with the reporters. “We will put up a very nice monument in your honor if by chance you all get killed.”

  I wished he hadn’t said that.

  One by one we climbed the tower and made our way to the cable. It was about four feet across, the size of a good strong tree trunk. Its surface was pretty smooth, though, and would be very hard to get a good grip on. Spuckler went first, followed by Gax, then me, then Poog and Mr. Beeba. I watched as Spuckler crawled out across the cable and Gax inched his way after him. Poog was lucky: he simply used his powers of levitation to float wherever he pleased. The rest of us had to just hold on as best we could.

  Don’t look down, I told myself as I reached the point where the cable passed over the canyon. Just stay focused on the Canyon Cruiser.

  The wind whipped my jeans and jacket back and forth like a flag on a flagpole. It howled so loudly in my ears I
thought I might go deaf. The cable creaked and groaned as it swayed from side to side. Once I nearly lost my grip and slid off altogether. Only by tensing every muscle in my fingers, arms, and legs was I able to regain my balance and stay where I was.

  I tried to gauge the distance between the Canyon Cruiser and us: about two hundred yards. Maybe more. Though I didn’t let myself look down, I knew the stomach-churning truth about how high I was above the bottom of the canyon. You could have built a skyscraper in the canyon with room to spare.

  Spuckler came to a stop and called back to the rest of us. All I caught was the word news, which I really hoped wasn’t the second half of the phrase bad news.

  It was.

  As I neared Spuckler, it became clear just how bad the news was. From this point onward the cable was covered with a thin film of grease, making it even harder to keep a good grip. For Gax, sadly, it meant going no farther. The grease would have made his suction cups almost useless.

  “You hold the fort here, little buddy,” said Spuckler. “We’ll be right back.”

  “I’M SORRY, SIR,” said Gax, a sad squeak in his mechanical voice. “I’VE LET YOU DOWN.”

  “Aw, now, you know that ain’t true, Gax. We’re gonna needja when we get those fellas out of the cruiser. Just stay put. Your time’ll come!”

  I told Spuckler to remove a couple of things from inside Gax: a long piece of rope and his welder’s torch. I knew we’d need both of them.

  Mr. Beeba and I crawled around Gax, both of us offering him words of encouragement as we passed. Poog took Gax’s place behind Spuckler, and on we went.

  By now we were nearly halfway out to the Canyon Cruiser. The wind howled and roared, chilling me to the bone.

  We’ve got to keep going. The training masters’ lives depend on it.

  No matter how awful or scary it became, I kept stretching one hand in front of the other, pulling myself forward inch by inch.

  “Most air!” I heard Spuckler cry, though I’m pretty sure what he’d really said was “We’re almost there!”

  I looked up. Sure enough, the Canyon Cruiser was no more than sixty or seventy feet away. If we could all just keep from …

  FFFWWWWWOOOOOOooooossssssshhhh!

  All at once a gust of wind blasted me so hard I felt my legs rising into the air. I tried to dig my hands into the threaded surface of the cable, but it was no use: my fingers slipped, slid, then lost their grip altogether.

  “Heeeeeeeeeellllp!”

  At the last possible moment I felt a hand clamp around my ankle, hold me in space, and then gradually pull me back to safety. For a good thirty seconds all I could do was hold on to the cable for dear life, hugging it as if it were the best friend I’d ever had. Then I turned my head and saw Mr. Beeba behind me, one yellow-gloved hand still locked around my ankle.

  “Really now, little lady!” he shouted before flashing me a grin. “Stunts like that we could do without!”

  How do you thank someone for saving your life? Well, if you’re me, you end up coughing, wheezing, and saying something like this: “Thank you, Mr. Beeba! Thank you!” I meant it. Meant it with all my heart. “That … that was close!”

  “I’ll say!” Mr. Beeba let go of my ankle and motioned me onward. “Now keep moving! We’ve got some catching up to do!”

  Chapter 19

  Finally we got to the place where the Canyon Cruiser was connected to the cable. Spuckler turned to me and put one hand on my shoulder.

  “The cruiser can’t handle much more weight than she’s already got! Me and Beeba … we’re too heavy. It’s gonna have to be you and Poog.”

  “Right,” I said. “That’s where this stuff comes in.” I took Gax’s torch and stuck it in my pocket. Then I took the rope and tied one end of it around my chest, just below my armpits. “This will serve as my safety net in case I fall.” I gave the other end to Spuckler.

  “Gotcha!”

  I swallowed hard and looked down at the roof of the Canyon Cruiser, swaying endlessly back and forth in the wind. The Yorbian was right: there was a good-sized emergency hatch at one end, but when the car had come loose from its riggings, a girder had smashed down on top of the door, barring the passengers’ only means of escape. If we were really lucky, it would be a simple matter of bending that girder out of the way.

  “All right,” I said. “Let’s go, Poog.”

  The wind blasted me as I crawled down the second connector to the roof of the Canyon Cruiser. Even from a distance I’d been able to see that this connector was weak, but a closer inspection revealed just how threadbare it really was. Only three wrist-thick pieces of steel kept it from snapping in half, and all three of them were badly twisted and stretched out of shape.

  Maybe they’re stronger than they look, I thought. Man, I sure hope they are.

  I continued making my way down, one careful inch at a time. Compared to groping my way across the grease-covered cable, climbing down the connector was pretty easy. There were wires and pieces of steel to hold on to, and the rope tied around me offered about as much security as I could have hoped for. Plus I had Poog at my side the whole time. With his encouraging smile nearby, I knew I’d have help when I needed it.

  There was a complicating factor, though: the noises.

  GREEEEeeeeeeeeee

  ROOOOOoooooooooo

  The cruiser produced the most horrible squeaks and screeches imaginable. Eerie groans filled the air with every pendulum swing it made, sending chills down the back of my neck and making my flesh crawl. Add the nonstop howl of the wind and you’ve got one surefire case of the heebie-jeebies.

  When I reached the bottom of the connector, I put one foot down on the roof, then the other, shifting my weight as slowly as I could. The Canyon Cruiser let off a whole new batch of squeals and moans but seemed capable of supporting me for the time being.

  “All right, Poog,” I said. “Let’s have a look at this escape hatch.”

  The hatch was easy to lift, but the girder bent across it prevented me from opening it any more than a crack. I placed my mouth as close to the gap as I could and shouted down into the Canyon Cruiser, “Is everyone okay down there?”

  There was a commotion below as the training masters realized their rescue might finally be at hand.

  “Who is that?” said a voice that I recognized as that of Odo Mumzibar.

  “Akiko,” I said, “from the planet Earth. I’m here to get you all out of this thing.”

  There was a storm of questions and answers among the training masters.

  “Be careful, Akiko,” said Odo. “You’re putting yourself in a very dangerous position here.”

  “I’ll be as careful as I can, sir,” I said.

  “And good luck, dear child,” Odo added. “We’ll all be needing it!”

  I gave Poog a smile. “Luck?” I whispered. “What we need is a miracle.”

  I placed both my hands on the girder and pulled as hard as I could. It was no use. This thing was solid steel, nearly a foot wide. After several exhausting minutes of pushing, pulling, tugging, and heaving with all my might, I had to just give up.

  Okay. Time for plan B.

  I knocked on the roof of the Canyon Cruiser with my fists, searching for a hollow spot. I found one just a few feet from the base of the second connector. Then I pulled Gax’s torch out of my pocket, held it away from myself, and pushed a button on its side.

  FRAAAAW!

  A powerful blast of fire shot out of its tip, warming my face and bathing Poog and me in yellow-orange light. I lowered the flame to the roof of the Canyon Cruiser and began tracing a burning line into the metal.

  FFFSSSSSSHHHHhhhhhhhhh

  Sparks flew everywhere as the torch melted its way through the steel. My fingers were burning from the heat, but that was something I’d just have to live with: they’d be burning a whole lot more by the time I was done.

  I moved the torch in a clockwise direction, slowly cutting a large circle in the roof. I figured if I could
get even three-quarters of the way around, I’d be able to kick it in and have a brand-new exit to work with.

  Soon I had the job nearly halfway done. My fingers were red from the sparks and flames, but if I could take the pain just a little bit longer …

  Suddenly Poog cried out. I turned and found him examining the second connector. It was twisting, turning, growing weaker and weaker. If it snapped, only one connector would remain. Then the whole Canyon Cruiser would swing down to a vertical position. Who knew, it might even fall off the cable altogether.

  GREEEEeeeeeeeeee

  ROOOOOoooooooooo

  The three remaining bars of the second connector began to splinter and crack. Then …

  BAM!

  BAM!

  BAAAAM!

  … it exploded into fragments. My stomach leaped into my throat as the roof of the Canyon Cruiser dropped out from underneath me. The rope—the only thing keeping me from plunging to the bottom of Virpling Canyon—dug in under my armpits and cut into my skin.

  Everything around me blurred. It took several seconds to regain my bearings. I crammed Gax’s torch back into my pocket and reached up to grab the rope with both hands. I feared the worst, that the Canyon Cruiser had broken free from the cable altogether and was already gone.

  Chapter 20

  Talk about miracles: the first connector was still in place. There was the Canyon Cruiser, no more than ten yards away from me. It was pitched at the extreme angle of a sinking ship, swinging from side to side, creaking and groaning more loudly than ever.

  “’Kiko!” I heard Spuckler cry from above. “Hold on! I’m gonna pull ya back up!”

  For an instant my eyes looked downward at the horrifying chasm just beyond the tips of my tennis shoes, the pale orange ground many thousands of feet below me. Yes, I thought. Pull me back up and get me out of here!

  But I couldn’t forget the Canyon Cruiser. The training masters were still trapped inside. It could be just a matter of seconds before the last connector gave way and …