by Steve Cole
Arx nodded. “They’re crossing cows with T. rexes to create dinosaur moo-tants.”
Rosso’s eyes bulged behind his glasses. “Well, that does sound a bit more important, I admit. Tell me more …”
The astrosaurs gave Rosso the whole story.
“Before he left, T-5 said, ‘Combat test complete’,” Teggs concluded. “He wants galactic domination. He must be planning some kind of attack.”
Gipsy nodded. “We must find him and his Fed-up Bull Institute bosses – and stop them.”
“I will ask all DSS ships to keep their eyes peeled for that saucer,” said Rosso. “And if I hear anything else about dinosaur moo-tants I’ll let you know. Keep in touch. Rosso out.”
The crusty old barosaurus faded from the screen.
“I just thought of something,” said Iggy. “Alass said the flying saucer’s jet engines were very different from ours. That might mean they’ve left a trail through space behind them … A trail we can follow!”
“Of course!” Arx beamed. “I’ll check all frequencies on the space scanners.”
“Good thinking, Arx,” said Teggs. “Gipsy, you and the dimorphodon must check all space messages – keep an ear out for any saucer sightings in the Carnivore Sector as well as here. And Iggy, you’d better stoke the ship’s engines with the nastiest dung you can find – the moment we spot that moo-tant spacecraft, I want to be hot on its trail.” Iggy smiled grimly. “Those curried pineapples we had for breakfast will do the job.”
As his friends saluted and began their work, Teggs sank down in his control pit and chewed on a small bush. “There’s a mega-mystery brewing here,” he muttered, “and it’s down to the astrosaurs to get to the bottom of it!”
Chapter Three
THE JAWS OF DEATH
On the other side of the galaxy, three very different cow-creatures were speeding through infinity. Not in a flying saucer, but in a U.F.O… .
An Unidentified Falling-apart Object!
It was unidentified simply because no one could see it flying through the impossible vortex of past, present and future. And while it looked like a ramshackle old cowshed that might collapse at any moment, it was in fact a super-special time machine – the incredible creation of one brilliantly brainy bull …
“Twenty-sixth century, here we come!” Professor Angus McMoo galloped around the control panel in the centre of his Time Shed, flicking switches as he went. “I can’t wait to pick up some more of those amazing future tea bags, mmmmm …”
Pat Vine, a young brown bullock, smiled. “Looks like the professor’s already got through those Chinese tea bags we picked up last week in the twentieth century.”
Little Bo, Pat’s milk-cow big sister, yawned. “And the half-ton of Indian tea leaves from the sixth century we got the week before.” She sighed. “We’ve turned into time-travelling tea-tourists! I wish the C.I.A. would send us on another mission.”
“It’s been a month since the last one,” Pat agreed. While he liked living on a quiet organic farm – and loved touring history with the professor – he was missing their incredible adventures with the Cows In Action.
This group of advanced time-travelling spy-cattle from the year 2550 had made the professor, Pat and Bo their star agents – even though they lived over five hundred years in the past. For McMoo and his young friends were no ordinary cows. They were the first of a special breed of Clever Cattle who would one day grow smarter than human beings – and for some time now they’d been fighting evil bulls from the future all across history …
“Perhaps we’ve foiled the Fed-up Bull Institute’s plans so often, they’ve given up,” said Pat. “They must know we’ll never let them mess up human history and put savage cows in charge of Earth.”
“Miserable quitters!” Bo blew a large gum bubble. “How am I meant to get my fill of punching losers if they go and give up like a bunch of babies?”
Pat rolled his eyes. Unlike him, Little Bo was a feisty rebel whose idea of fun was getting into fights and painting her udder unusual colours (today it was blue and green).
Suddenly, the Time Shed rattled.
“We’re here!” McMoo announced. “The future cow paradise of Luckyburger in the year 2550. I’ve put us down in the grounds of the Palace of Great Moos.”
“But that’s the C.I.A.’s headquarters!” Pat smiled knowingly. “Professor, you wouldn’t be thinking of dropping in to see if there’s a mission for us …?”
“Me? No! I just love those big buckets of tea they sell in the canteen.” McMoo winked. “Although, while we’re here, it might be an idea, mightn’t it? A bull cannot live by tea alone! He needs some action too.”
“So does this cow,” said Bo, kicking open the Time Shed’s doors. “So let’s go and grab some.”
She charged off outside …
But two seconds later, she dashed back, her rosy hide pale and her udder quivering.
“What’s up?” asked Pat, puzzled.
“We’re not the only visitors from the past here today,” said Bo breathlessly. “Look!”
From outside there came a terrifying roar. McMoo crossed to the door with Pat – and both cows gasped in shock.
Pounding towards them across the perfect gardens of C.I.A. HQ was a gigantic sharp-toothed dinosaur – dressed in ragged green clothing! Frozen with horror, Pat could only stare as the prehistoric beast stamped ever closer – its meaty butt swinging from side to side, its drooling jaws open, ready to crunch down on cow-flesh …
“Remarkable!” Professor McMoo clapped his hooves with delight. “Pat, I think that’s a torvosaurus from the Jurassic period – related to the megalosaurus. Bones discovered in the 1970s, I believe. I don’t know about the outfit, but—”
“Professor!” Pat squeaked as the giant beast lumbered closer. “Now we know what it is, can we try hiding from it?”
“Ah, yes,” said McMoo. “Good thinking. Although a torvosaurus does have an amazing sense of smell and will obviously find us almost immediately—”
“Look out!” bellowed Bo from the Time Shed.
“Yep, noticed the big dinosaur, thanks!” Pat told her.
“I mean, look out for this!” Bo staggered out with the Time Shed’s costume cupboard, stuffed full of outfits from all ages for use on C.I.A. missions. “This dinosaur obviously likes dressing up, so …”
As the prehistoric giant lunged forward to chow down on the cows, Bo jammed the end of the wardrobe between its jaws. KER-CRUNCH! The heavy wood broke apart and costumes spilled out into its mouth. A monk’s robes, a suit of armour, even an enormous pair of pants, all got stuck in the dinosaur’s teeth. The torvosaurus turned away, spitting and coughing and clawing at its overstuffed jaws.
“Nice going, Bo!” Professor McMoo beamed.
“Yes, thanks, sis.” Pat’s legs felt so wobbly he almost fell over. “But what’s going on? Where did that thing come from?”
Suddenly, out of the bushes rushed a herd of bulls and cows, all wearing dark glasses and purple sashes. The ones in front fired strange-looking guns at the dinosaur. Thick cables burst out and turned into heavy steel nets that wrapped themselves around the scaly giant. The nets glowed blue, and at once the dinosaur stopped struggling and toppled to the ground.
“Sorry about that, troops. The sleep-o-nets should keep this thing down now.” A large black bull with curly horns and the biggest sash of all strode up to McMoo, Pat and Bo. “We had it locked up, but it got out and made a run for it.”
“Yak!” The professor shook hooves heartily with the burly bull. “How’s the Director of the Cows In Action today?”
Bo gave Yak a hug. “Feeling a little dino-sore, Yakky-baby?”
“This dressed-up brute was delivered to the Palace of Great Moos in an enormous crate,” Yak growled. “It almost ate a dozen agents before we got it under control and locked it in a cage.”
“So how did it get out?” Pat wondered.
“It picked the lock of the cage with its longes
t claw.” Yak nodded gravely. “It seems the dinosaurs were a whole lot smarter than we thought.”
“They died out sixty-five million years ago,” McMoo mused. “The Time Shed doesn’t have the power to go back that far.”
“Nor do C.I.A. or F.B.I. time machines,” Yak admitted. “Where it came from is a total mystery …” He pulled out an envelope from his sash. “Anyway, we found this note in the crate.” Yak handed Pat a piece of paper. “It’s bad news.”
With a feeling of quivering doom, Pat read it aloud:
Chapter Four
ASSIGNMENT: OUTER SPACE!
“Toro, the head of the F.B.I …” Pat breathed. “Yak, is that true?”
“So it seems,” the director said grimly. “The true identity of the F.B.I.’s leader has always been their best-kept secret. But now Toro’s simply come out and told us.”
“Why would he do that?” said Bo. “Is he a dur-brain?”
“More likely, he’s feeling very confident,” McMoo murmured. “Toro is up to something very clever and probably very nasty, and wants you to know about it.”
Bo raised her front hooves. “He’ll know about these when I clobber him!”
“Come with me, troops,” said Yak, “and I’ll tell you what we’ve discovered so far …”
As he led the way across the churned-up gardens, the torvosaurus stirred beneath the net and shook its hindquarters, growling and grumbling. Pat shivered. He had the strangest feeling that the dinosaur from who-knew-where was trying to talk to them.
But that was impossible. Dinosaurs – even dressed-up ones – were just stupid animals.
Weren’t they?
“To tell you the truth,” Yak began, “we thought the F.B.I. had given up. Our time scanners couldn’t find the tiniest trace of them visiting the past. But one day we looked ahead in time instead … and found that F.B.I. agents had been travelling into the future.”
“Huh?” McMoo frowned. “But they’ve always wanted to change history and make cows the top dogs in place of humans – if you’ll pardon so many mammals in one sentence. What can these F.B.I. agents be after?”
“They’ve been stealing the designs for super-advanced human spaceships that won’t be invented for thousands of years,” Yak explained, “along with the parts and equipment they need to build one of their own.”
McMoo raised his eyebrows. “So the F.B.I. are going into space?”
“Good riddance!” said Bo.
“They’re not just giving up and leaving the planet,” said Yak. “They’re planning something – far away, on the other side of the galaxy.” He led the way towards a small arch in a towering hedge. “Their spaceship looks like a flying saucer. It’s powered by cosmic rays and can zip through the universe at one hundred times the speed of light.”
“Impossible!” McMoo spluttered. “Nothing moves that quickly – not even me when there’s a cuppa on offer.” He stopped and looked meaningfully at Yak. “Speaking of which, I don’t suppose …?”
“Yes!” Just then, a young ox rushed up, carrying a large wooden box, an envelope and a metal pail full of tea.
“Here’s a new tea for you to sample, Professor.”
“Ugh!” Bo grimaced.
“That stuff stinks like a dredged pond.”
“It’s called Plurge,” the ox told her primly. “In this century, it’s the most prized tea in the world. It’s made with a special herb recently discovered in the Amazon rainforest that is supposed to have special medicinal properties …”
“Proper teas – that’s all I’m bothered about!” The professor drained his bucket in one gulp. “Ahhh! Not bad at all. Got any more?”
“We thought you might ask.” The ox smiled and presented McMoo with the box. “Here are one hundred Plurge tea bags for you.”
“Do they come with one hundred clothes pegs to stick on our noses?” asked Pat hopefully.
“No,” said the ox. He handed the envelope to Yak and saluted. “This is for you, Director, from the technical department.”
“Aha!” Yak pulled out a plastic card and studied it. “We’ve managed to track the F.B.I. flying saucer to a distant asteroid.”
“Wow!” McMoo tossed the empty tea-bucket over his shoulder – hitting the poor ox on the head. “If only we could follow them there, all that way through space. Imagine that!”
“As it happens, you can follow them there.” Yak led the way through the gap in the hedge and smiled. “We were about to call you over; after that business with the moon landings in 1969, you three are my only agents with space combat experience. So …”
Pat, Bo and McMoo gasped in perfect unison. There, in the middle of the ornamental lawn, stood an enormous flying saucer!
“Toro left behind his how-to-build-a-saucer plans and equipment in a known F.B.I. hideout,” Yak explained, “so we decided to build our own.”
“That was careless of him,” said McMoo thoughtfully. “I’d expect better from the head of the F.B.I.”
“You can tell him off when you find him.” Yak handed McMoo the plastic card. “Slot this into the computer and the saucer will home in on Toro’s ship. What happens after that … we don’t know.” He lowered his voice. “Toro wouldn’t go to all this trouble just for a joyride. Whatever he’s up to, it’s got to be big, bad and very, very dangerous. So, if you’d rather sit this one out and go back to the farm, guys, that’s cool.”
“Cool?” McMoo grinned. “Why settle for ‘cool’ when you can have proper ‘cold’ – 270 degrees below freezing in the vastness of space? I’m up for it!”
“Me too!” whooped Bo.
“You’ll find spacesuits hanging up inside,” said Yak with a little smile. “The instruction book’s in the glove compartment but everything has been pre-programmed – press the green button and you’ll be away.”
“Er, are you sure, Yak?” asked Pat. “Have you tested that thing yet?”
“’Cos if you haven’t, we’ll do it for you! Won’t we, Pat?” Bo ushered the young bullock inside the gleaming white craft. “Oooh, I love flying new machines …”
“Moovellous!” McMoo grinned and tapped his box of tea bags. “I only wish you had a flying teacup to go with the saucer – mmmm, a Brew-F.O… . what a tea-licious treat that would be!”
Yak watched the professor follow Pat and Bo inside the spaceship. “Whatever you find up there, troops,” he murmured, “good luck!”
Five minutes later, the saucer trembled, then shook, and finally took off in a haze of light. In the swish of a tail, it had vanished from sight. Into the unknown …
Chapter Five
PERIL ON JAGGONAX
Back in the Jurassic Quadrant, a very impatient Teggs was pacing up and down the Sauropod’s flight deck. He’d been pacing for so long, he was starting to leave dents in the floor!
His crew were working hard. Gipsy was checking space transmissions for any clue to T-5 and cow-dino’s whereabouts. Iggy was stoking the engines, ready for a fast getaway. And Arx …
“Arx, any luck picking up the trail of that saucer?” Teggs asked, for the 232nd time.
“Not yet, Captain,” said Arx, also for the 232nd time.
Gipsy suddenly sat up bolt upright and pulled off her headphones. “Captain, I’ve just heard something!”
Teggs bounced in the air. “You know where the saucer has gone?”
“Um, no,” Gipsy admitted as Teggs flopped down again in disappointment. “But listen to this transmission I picked up from the Tyrannosaur Territories …” She pressed a button and a deep growly voice came out of the ship’s speakers:
“This is a ‘missing carnivore’ message … There is still no trace of the torvosaurus space ambassador, Cindy P. Bumbum, who was kidnapped last month during a visit to the Vegmeat Zone. Eyewitnesses say she was pushed into a flying saucer by a robot with horns. No one has seen or heard of her since, or reported her as eaten. But if she was eaten, please would the eater say sorry. And, er, tell us if she tasted nice.”
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“Sounds like she was taken by T-5,” Teggs realized. “So these cattle-warriors have attacked carnivores as well as plant-eaters—”
“I’VE DONE IT!” boomed Arx, sending a flock of dimorphodon scattering in alarm. “I’ve found a faint trail of ultralight atoms, leading away from Planet Sixty and heading towards the Jaggonax Cluster, higher up in the Vegmeat Zone.”
“I remember Jaggonax!” Teggs cast his mind back. “Once it was a sunny little planet. Carnivore miners moved in, split it apart, then took out all the precious minerals.”
Arx nodded. “It’s abandoned now.”
“By dinosaurs, yes. But perhaps not by dinosaur moo-tants …” Teggs leaped into the control pit and spoke into his communicator. “Iggy, stand by to boost the engines. We’re going after that flying saucer. And this time, we won’t let those cow-creeps get away!”
At that very moment, the experimental saucer with the Cows In Action on board was zooming towards the Jurassic Quadrant. It darted about like a deranged tadpole, blazing a path through the strange infinity of outer space.
In the bright, white control room, held in their seats by gravity straps, McMoo, Pat and Bo watched stars and planets whistle past the windscreen at mind-staggering speeds. The engines howled. Flight computers hissed and whirred. The two fluffy dice hanging from the rear scanner shook slightly.
“Wheeeeee!” yelled Bo, holding her front legs above her head like a human on a roller-coaster. “How fast are we going? About a hundred miles an hour?”
McMoo shook his head. “Try 29 billion, 979 million, 246 thousand miles per second!”
“I wasn’t far off then,” said Bo. “WHEEEE-EEEEE!”
Pat groaned as his stomach flipped and flollopped. “How long will this journey take?”
“Pre-programmed flight pattern almost complete,” said the celestial sat-nav in a calm, computerized voice. “We will be landing in point-zero-one-two of a second.”