by Jamie Smart
‘Y-you want us to help?’ Sam said as Space Fleet huddled around him.
‘Yes I do!’ Dev stood tall, and held his fist against his chest. ‘While I, Lieutenant Dev, am on MY mission, Space Fleet will have a mission of their own. Are you WITH ME?’
‘We’re WITH YOU!’ they all cheered in unison.
‘Excellent, now … hang on. Didn’t there used to be more of you?’
Sam’s smile fell off his face. ‘There used to be loads.’
‘Space Fleet had twenty-seven cadets last year,’ Alice, the tallest member of Space Fleet, moaned, her cardboard-box helmet just balancing on top of her head. ‘But none of our missions to go into space have worked, so …’
Reginald, a colander wedged onto his thick curly hair, huffed defiantly. ‘So they aaaall left. Well, GOOD. We din’ want them anyways.’
Arto, the smallest of them all, who had drawn all over her own face for some reason, frantically waved her arms. ‘We Space Feet! SPACE FEET!’
‘SPACE FEET!’ They all joined in, stomping around in a circle before collapsing in a fit of giggles.
‘Well, Space Feet, you’re more than enough,’ Dev beamed. ‘These are your orders, and I expect you to follow them to the letter!’
He knelt beside Sam and whispered in his ear. Then he did the same to Alice, then Reginald, then Arto.
‘Do you all understand your missions?’
‘Yes, sir! Space Fleet, fall in line!’ Sam cheered, hardly able to contain himself. ‘We have our orders!
Meet back here in TWENTY MINUTES!’
‘Go!’ Dev grinned. ‘For the sake of the galaxy! Go. GO!’
And with that, each cadet ran from the marketplace. A trail of excited giggles echoing in their wake.
‘Dev.’ He felt his mother’s hand on his shoulder. ‘Promise me you won’t—’
‘I’ll be back! With a carrot!’ Dev shouted triumphantly, spinning on his heels and running down the narrow alley beside Zerigauld’s shop.
‘The carrot is important!’
The alley narrowed, and narrowed more, before suddenly opening up into Absolom Lane with all its delicious-smelling food shops. Dev leapt over barrels and crates, hop-scotched through a gaggle of honking geese, paused for a moment, to marvel at a tall stack of marshmallows in one of the windows, before swinging a hard left down into the cooler shadows of Pickety Road.
Down here, the streets were lined with stalls and tables, each selling something completely different from the last. Brooms and brushes at one. Miniature carved pigs at another. Every size and shape of duck whistle you could ever need at another.
The stall Dev was after looked old and tired. The vegetables stacked on it looked old and tired. Its owner, Ventillo, Dev’s grandmother, well she was the oldest and tiredest of all. Small, huddled up in blankets behind the table, her cloudy eyes made huge by a pair of thick glasses. Her skin all cracked like dry mud. Wild purple hair spilling out from beneath her helmet.
‘N-N-Nonna!’ Dev stammered, trying to catch his breath.
‘Dev?’ Ventillo muttered. ‘If this is about coming round for dinner, tell your mother I will. Sometime. End of the year maybe.’
‘No, I need a carrot, Nonna.’
‘Not a plum?’ Ventillo’s bony hand felt its way across the stall. Passing over the dark-blue plums. Landing on the pears. ‘Plums are good this week. Not too bruised. Are these plums?’
‘A carrot.’ Dev picked up the least withered carrot he could see.
‘Peach.’ Ventillo smiled, holding up a potato. ‘They’re good for you, Dev.’
‘No, honestly, a carrot. I don’t have much time. I just need this carrot.’
‘I suppose it’s better than nothing. Fine, a carrot.’ She pulled her blankets tighter, all her bangles and bracelets clattering as she did. ‘What’ll you trade me for it?’
Dev rummaged around in his pockets. ‘I have … a few cob screws, old wire, um …’
‘No use to me.’
‘Please! It’s just a carrot.’
‘Every carrot is important.’ Ventillo snatched the carrot back, placing it amongst the apricots. ‘You’ll get no family favours here.’
‘Fine. FINE! Here, how about this?’ Dev grabbed the potato and pressed a cob screw into its skin. He then picked up a banana, stuck his other cob screw into it and connected them both with the wire thread.
Instantly, the banana began to glow.
Ventillo’s eyes glistened, and her thin lips fell open. ‘My boy, that’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,’ she gasped, reaching out and taking the banana from him.
‘It’s science!’ Dev grinned, picking up his carrot. ‘Energy from one, feeding into the other. And now you have a light-up banana!’
Ventillo didn’t reply. Didn’t even look up. Didn’t look anywhere except at her marvellous banana.
‘Thank you for the carrot!’ Dev cheered, continuing on down the road. Towards the lower parts of Eden.
Towards part two of his amazing plan.
The part he wasn’t particularly looking forward to.
4
Bastor
Dissler’s the Chemist. Boggarty’s Clocks. Handel’s Helmets and Helmet Accessories. This far into Lower Eden, the buildings were stacked so high they blocked out the sun, casting the valley into a deep gloom. Dev could feel goose bumps on his skin, but he wasn’t sure if they were from the cold or his nerves.
Smoke rose from one of the buildings ahead. Dev peered around its large open doorway, a great warmth flushing into his cheeks.
‘B-Bastor?’ He called out. ‘I … I need to borrow … something …’
Bastor the blacksmith was hunched over his workbench. His back looked like a bag full of conkers, all knotted muscles, which slid around and locked into place as he turned. Two huge, blackened arms folded across his chest. He was bald up top, but had a thick black beard hiding the lower half of his face. And what a face it was. Weathered and beaten, like a permanently annoyed tortoise.
Bastor the furious, knotted, permanently annoyed tortoise.
Dev ducked behind a rack of hand-crafted swords.
‘Just the person I wanted to see.’ Bastor smiled. ‘I would value your opinion!’
He walked across the dirt floor, past the axes on the walls, the shields, the tools. Bowing underneath the low rafters he pulled on some thick gloves, picked up some pincers and lifted a small pot out from the fire.
Dev gulped. ‘My … opinion? You don’t want to shout at me instead?’
‘Shout at you?’ Bastor chuckled. ‘Why on earth would I shout at you?’
‘There’s usually a reason,’ Dev grumbled. ‘Dev, don’t turn that thing on in here. Dev, put that sword down …’
‘Dev, put that sword down,’ Bastor sighed.
Dev hadn’t even noticed he had picked one up. It clanged loudly as he dropped it.
Bastor took a deep breath and continued, in as calm and as quiet a voice as he could manage. ‘I’ve been working on this.’ He walked the pot back over to the bench in the middle of the room and tilted it. A shimmering, silver liquid poured out, pooling into a heart-shaped stone cast.
‘Do you think she’ll like it?’ Bastor cleared his throat. ‘Amy, I mean?’
Dev scrunched his nose up. ‘You made this for my mum?’
‘Well, um … maybe. Yes.’
‘What does it do?’
Bastor’s face folded into a succession of expressions, each more thoughtful than the last. ‘It, uh. It, well, it. It … It’s just nice,’ he finally shrugged.
‘Oh, OK.’ Dev smiled cheerfully. ‘Well, that is true. It is nice.’
An awkward silence filled the air between them.
‘FERVUS!’ Dev suddenly remembered. ‘That’s what I came here for. Can I borrow Fervus? Just for a bit? Please?’
‘Fervus?’ Bastor’s forehead creased up. ‘Whatever for?’
Dev made his way behind the forge and crouched beside the tall red curtain i
n the corner. ‘He’s going to help me fix my mistakes.’
‘Did Amy say this was OK?’
‘Probably …’ Dev took out the carrot and waggled it beneath the curtain. A small pink nose snuffled out. Its nostrils flaring as it niff-niff-niffed towards the carrot, before the rest of its white furry snout followed behind.
‘Come out, Fervus.’ Dev smiled, careful to hold the carrot just far enough away.
Hearing his name, Fervus the tiny goat tottered out into the light. He gave himself a big shake, ruffling out his fur, before finally opening his big black eyes and staring up at Dev.
‘Well, OK, but please look after him.’ Bastor nervously patted Fervus’s horns. ‘Some of us didn’t have kids, y’know. Some of us had goats instead.’
Suddenly, Dev’s mum screeched to a halt outside the open doorway. Dev instinctively ducked down behind the bench, bundling Fervus under his arm and peering out at his breathless mother.
Her hair was wild. Her cheeks were red. ‘Bastor,’ she wheezed through a polite smile. ‘Did … did Dev come in here?’
Bastor fiddled with the strings of his apron. ‘Amy! Wh-what a lovely surprise … to see you. H-how are you today?’
‘DEV. I thought I saw him come in here.’
‘I-it’s a lovely day,’ Bastor stammered. ‘I’m guessing. I mean, I spend all day here in the dark, so who knows, it could still be last week for all I know.’
He laughed a weird shrill laugh, before accidentally knocking a row of coal shovels off the wall. They hopped across the ground, clanging loudly together. Bastor apologised seven times.
Dev took his chance.
He scurried under the bench, skidding out behind his mother. He was running up the road before she had even noticed – back through the corridors of Lower Eden, up and into the sunlit Middle Eden streets.
Back into the marketplace.
His legs aching, he slumped down in front of Zerigauld’s cheese-covered antique shop. A crowd had begun to gather, covering their noses against the stinky cheese smell. Sam barged through them, proudly holding a large oily mechanical pump in the air.
‘Commander Sam, reporting for duty! I got it, Dev! From one of the village generators, like you asked. Mission complete!’
‘Excellent work, Commander!’ Dev saluted and Fervus bleated from under his arm, at which Sam squealed with delight.
Then the crowd parted for Reginald. He was pushing Alice along in a wheelbarrow, her arms filled with a variety of long floppy tubes. ‘Mission complete!’ he puffed, heaving Alice up and onto the ground.
‘Hoi!’ she yelled.
‘We went to your workshop to get these.’ Reginald clanged his hand against the colander on his head. ‘Wheelbarrow and tubes. I only stopped for two rests, and one toilet.’
‘This is great; this is all great!’ Dev put Fervus on the ground, lifted the pump and placed it in the wheelbarrow. He then strapped it down and plugged the thicker tubes into its side.
‘Mishun compeet!’ Arto’s tiny voice yelled out, as she staggered between the crowd’s legs. Her item was a large wooden wheel, larger than she was, hiding all but her feet.
‘Ah, the last piece. A cartwheel. Brilliant work, Arto!’ Dev smiled, taking the wheel. Arto’s hair was full of leaves and twigs, her face scuffed. But she beamed proudly through all four of her teeth.
‘And just in time, it’s aboutttt …’ Dev stared intently at his shadow on the ground. ‘… ten to eight. Not long till opening!’ And with that he set to work, bending pipes, plugging things into other things, battering everything together, and hanging the carrot up in front of it all. Within minutes the whole contraption was finished.
Well, nearly finished.
He grabbed the thickest, longest tube of all and ran it from the back of the pump, up across the grass and into the fountain. He felt a fire begin to swell inside his heart. ‘This could work,’ he chuckled, hopping back towards his contraption. ‘This could actually, actually work.’
Then he saw his brother, and every drop of enthusiasm suddenly drained away.
‘I could have guessed it was you who caused all this cheese.’ Santoro was dressed in his Youth Guild uniform – feather-garnished helmet, long blue tunic and smart, buckled boots. ‘Your silly experiments usually only endanger yourself, but this time? You’ve damaged poor Zerigauld’s shop. You’re a public nuisance. And The Guild can’t tolerate such things.’
‘I’m trying to fix things,’ Dev grumbled.
A scowl formed beneath Santoro’s floppy purple fringe.
Other, older, Guild members huffed and puffed their way into the marketplace. They were the everyday shopkeepers, the traders, the clerks, now dressed in their blue tunics and waving thin swords, just like they had when Dev flew too close to The Wall.
Oh great, Dev sighed. Now everyone’s coming.
He picked Fervus up and held him over the cartwheel. The little goat’s nose twitched towards the carrot.
Niff! Niff!
His legs started running in mid-air.
Niff! Niff! Niff niff niff!
‘Dev!’
Both Santoro and Dev turned to see their mother staggering back up the hill. She managed to gasp a few words out.
‘Dev … what … are … you … up to?’
‘I’m trying …’ he repeated, ‘… to fix things.’ And without waiting for a reply, he dropped Fervus inside the thick rim of the cartwheel. Fervus, intent on getting to the carrot dangling just inches in front of his nose, surged forwards. His legs turned the wheel. The wheel powered the pump.
The machine rumbled into life.
5
The Goat-Powered Washtopus
‘I’ll call it … a Goat-Powered Washtopus!’ Dev shouted over the clatters and the clangs and the chugga-chugga-chuggas. ‘A whole new concept in cleaning! It will rid a building of cheese within minutes!’
Beneath her Guild helmet, Rosa Mildew looked worried. ‘H-how does it do that?’
‘Yeah, Dev,’ Santoro scoffed. ‘How, exactly?’
Dev didn’t have a chance to reply. The long tube running from the machine to the fountain had already started writhing around between his feet. Great bulges of water squeaked along it, squeezing into the pump, firing its pistons at a furious speed. Steam hissed out. The crowd shrieked and took a collective step back.
‘’ERE! WHAT ARE YOU ALL DOING OUTSIDE MY SHOP?’
Zerigauld Sourface’s bent, scrawny body appeared in the doorway. Just then, the four arms of the Washtopus stiffened and cold water SPLOOSHED out at high speed. One blast propelled Zerigauld backwards with a yelp, another hissed along the front wall, knocking a variety of cheese-covered antiques spinning into the road.
‘It’s working!’ Dev gasped. ‘The Washtopus is cleaning Zerigauld’s shop!’
Every inch of his skin prickled with pride, as he stood back to admire his amazing invention. It was noisy, sure, and a little heavy-handed, but oh boy was it doing the job.
‘What’s this big old thing then?’
Dev caught sight of his grandmother, squelch-squelch-squelching her way through the watery mist.
‘I’m cleaning.’ Dev beamed.
‘Well aren’t you being a good lad today? First my light,’ she tapped the glowing banana taped to the front of her helmet. ‘And now this. You deserve a reward.’
‘Not at all, Nonna!’ Dev laughed. ‘I’m just glad to help!’
‘Nonsense, one good turn deserves another. Here, since you like them so much, take as many as you want.’
She held out a crate with stack upon stack of bright orange carrots inside.
Dev’s eyes widened in horror.
‘No more carrots, they’ll distract the goat!’ He pushed the crate back towards her, hoping Fervus hadn’t caught a whiff. ‘I really don’t need any more. Please, you keep them.’
‘No no no, you were all excited about carrots. Take some,’ Ventillo insisted.
‘Perhaps it’s not the best time, Nonna.�
� Santoro appeared, sliding one arm around Ventillo’s shoulder, and with the other he took charge of her crate. ‘The marketplace is a little … busy at the moment. Let me walk you, and your carrots, back home.’
Ventillo protested, but Santoro took charge, and he calmly led her away.
Dev exhaled with relief. A few moments later Commander Sam emerged from the crowd, staring in terrified fascination at the Washtopus.
‘Is it … an alien?’ he gasped.
‘Sort of.’ Dev smiled.
‘He said yes!’ Sam shouted back towards the crowd as Reginald barged his way through.
‘ATTACK IT WITH CARROTS THEN!’ he yelled, clutching a carrot in each hand.
Why do you have … Dev didn’t have time to finish the thought. A loud bleat rose up from behind him, and with an enormous blast of water, the Washtopus propelled itself towards Reginald. What was once just a cute goat in a wheelbarrow was now a hungry machine working overtime, thick smoke pouring out from the ribs of its engine.
‘The carrots!’ Dev’s body flushed ice-cold with panic. ‘It’s coming for the carrots!’
Reginald instantly lost his nerve, flinging his carrots away, skidding onto his knees and burying his face in his hands. The Washtopus swerved past with less than an inch to spare, then clattered at speed towards Arto and the carrot she was holding. That is, until she threw her carrot to Alice.
Fortunately for them all, another large shape came charging through the mist. A huge, hulking, permanently annoyed tortoise shape. Bastor, now changed from his soot-covered apron into the striped tunic of the Guild Leader. He leapt towards Alice, huddling his huge body around her as the Washtopus smashed into his back, crumpling into a shower of sparks and splinters.