The bear shrugged. ‘I’ll try anything that fends off starvation!’
Tiger had his doubts that they would all fit onto the Teleportation Module, and he could have sworn he heard a wheeze from the Module’s anti-gravity jets as they fired up from the touch screen on the control panel. But after they heard the bear’s tummy grumbling, there was no way that anyone wanted to be left behind, especially Number 12, who made sure he was the first to scamper onto the platform.
‘Where exactly is... Churchill?’ Tiger asked Tark, wondering what coordinates he should set.
Tark, who usually knew everything, nodded knowingly as if he did know, before finally turning to the bear. ‘I know, of course,’ he said. ‘But our friend here might know a shortcut?’
The bear lifted his paws meekly. ‘I only know of the Churchill Track – 1500 kilometres that way. Or is it that way? Last night’s blizzard may have covered it up.’
‘Never mind,’ said Tark. ‘We’ll do it the high tech way.’
A few taps at the control panel later and a large holographic screen floated up there before them.
‘Hey, neat-o,’ said Tiger. ‘It looks better than Google Earth.’
Tark laughed. ‘It’s what Google Earth would like to be, and might be, a few decades from now – if the Earth survives. Now, where exactly is this Churchill place?’
‘I thought you knew,’ said Wanda, jumping on it.
‘I... do,’ said Tark quickly. ‘But this is the bear’s idea, so it’s only right that he should show us the way, in his own time.’
While they were talking, the bear tried to poke the holograph, but his paw only went through it. He drew it back out quickly, as if expecting a shock, but none came.
He squinted at a dot on the map. ‘Can you make it any bigger?’
With a swipe from Tark, a zoom bar materialized. ‘There. All you have to do is picture it bigger or smaller, or to shift north, south, east or west.’
‘Really?’ the bear said doubtfully. ‘Is there a Dummy’s Guide to Holographs? I think I need one!’
‘Nonsense!’ said Tark. ‘Give it a try.’
To the bear’s amazement, wishing the holograph bigger worked. Soon he was steering them through holographic space straight for Churchill.
They landed with a slight but very real bump.
‘Sorry,’ said Tiger, blushing under his fur. ‘I left it a bit late to fade out the anti-gravity jets.’
‘We’ll forgive you this time,’ said Wanda, looking a bit wobbly.
‘Ooh,’ said Number 12, wrinkling his nose. ‘What’s that smell? Or should I say that stink?’
‘That would be the Churchill Dump,’ the bear said, rubbing his paws together. ‘We appear to have landed smack in the middle of it!’
Everyone who could pinch their nose tried to. Even Syd, who had visited many a tip back in Australia, put a wing over his nose. The smell was, well, a stink.
Only Tark seemed not to mind.
‘How can you stand it?’ Number 12 asked him, doing his best to breathe in short bursts after trying to not breathe at all for a while.
‘Griffs lost their sense of smell centuries ago,’ Tark explained. ‘Our technology got so good at more precisely detecting and decoding scents that our own olfactory nodes atrophied. The advantage is that we can switch the detecting function on and off at will, which is pretty handy in situations like this.’
Still pinching his nose, Tiger was ready to sign up for full Griffon citizenship, whether or not he’d have to surrender his fur.
Outside, pawing through mountains of rubbish, were hundreds of polar bears, all of them looking fatter than their northerly cousin.
It took a while to get their attention but curiosity brought them around.
‘No feral cats allowed,’ said one of them, pointing at Tiger.
Tiger stretched to his tallest. ‘I am Tiger of the Sacred Pool,’ he declared. ‘And I am certainly not feral!’
‘Then why are you here?’ demanded another. ‘When you could be curled up by some human’s fireplace?’
‘If he’s not feral,’ said another, narrowing his eyes, ‘then he might be tender. Shall we give him a try?’
Several of them took a few steps toward the crew – until Tark, with a swipe of his magic toe, drew an arc of fire over their heads.
‘The frog’s a witch!’ cried one of them.
‘A witch?’ said Tark, leaning down to Wanda. ‘Is that a species I should know about?’
Wanda shook her head. ‘Nothing to worry about. These bears probably read recycled Harry Potters during the long winter nights.’
If there’s one thing a polar bear seems to respect, Tiger noted, it’s a show of force. They were more than willing to listen as Tark told them about his plan to sign them up for the Project.
At the crack of dawn next morning, the first trucks making their way up the hill to the Dump were met by a picket line of polar bears carrying placards
On Strike
Food Scraps Yes, Plastic Bags No
One Man’s Scraps, Another Bear’s Feast
and so on.
The drivers of the first trucks got out and scratched their heads.
‘Should we call in the Mounties?’ one of them asked.
‘They’re a protected species,’ another man grumbled. ‘Them Mounties won’t do a thing!’
Then one of them spotted the Crew working their way through the picket line toward them.
‘Well, I’ll be,’ said one of the truckers. ‘It’s a camel, and a frog, and a cat, and a crow, and a funny looking snake with legs!’
‘How dare you!’ cried Wanda. ‘Haven’t you ever seen a Blue-tongue Lizard before?’
The truckers shook their heads in unison.
The real test for the bears came just then – speaking human. But Tiger had taught them well.
‘We want the Mayor,’ they shouted. ‘Bring us the Mayor!’
‘You suppose they want to eat the Mayor?’ one of the truckers giggled. ‘Now that would give them indigestion!’
‘No,’ said Tark. ‘We want to meet with him to see if we can settle this strike peacefully.’
The bears began a chant behind them: Mayor, Mayor, Mayor, Mayor...
It took a while, but the Mayor eventually turned up in an official looking four wheel drive. Following close behind were several National Park trucks, from which rangers got out carrying rifles. But the Mayor held up his hand to them.
‘Steady, boys,’ he said. ‘We don’t want no trouble here. And it’s me they’ve asked for, so let’s take them at their word.’
He seemed surprised to be met by the Crew, especially Tark and Wanda.
‘Aren’t you little guys cold?’ he asked. ‘It’s minus ten out here!’
Tark, of course, was impervious to the cold, and he’d fashioned a solar heat skin for Wanda that kept the heat from the sun trapped in her scales.
‘We’re fine, thanks,’ said Wanda. ‘But that’s a cute parka you’ve got there, Mr Mayor.’
The Mayor blushed then held out his hand, but couldn’t decide who to offer it to until Tiger grabbed it and gave it a firm shake.
‘Ouch,’ said the Mayor, withdrawing his hand. ‘Your claws are sharp, pussy!’
‘Sorry,’ said Tiger. ‘I haven’t been for a peticure lately.’
The Mayor laughed. ‘You mean a pedicure?’
‘No,’ said Tiger. ‘Pedicures are for sick pedestrians. Peticures are for pets.’
‘Right,’ said the Mayor. ‘Well, my name’s Spence. Mike Spence. What can I do for you and the... boys over there?’
Wanda assumed her Judge Judy attitude. ‘Mike, you should be ashamed of this dump. It’s a blot on the landscape. Something really needs to be done about it!’
‘Yes,’ said Mayor Mike. ‘I actually agree with you. But we’re only a small town, and recycling is expensive. Besides, if we recycled everything, where would your buddies go for a feed?’
Tiger eyed him. �
�You look familiar. Don’t I know your face?’
Mayor Mike smiled. ‘I’ve been on YouTube.’
‘That’s it!’ said Tiger. ‘Earth Hour. You asked everyone in the world to turn off their lights for an hour.’
The Mayor beamed. ‘Hey, I didn’t think anyone had seen that clip!’
‘Alexander did,’ said Tiger. ‘And he got Next Door to turn off their lights, too!’
‘Great,’ said Mayor Mike. ‘So you can see I’m all for getting a handle on climate change. After all, the warmer it gets, the more bears we’ll have trooping into town for a feed. It’s only a matter of time until someone gets hurt.’
Tapping her toe, Judge Wanda laid it all out in Plain English, and the Mayor nodded each step of the way.
For just a slight increase in taxes, each household would be given a new bin, especially for food scraps. Thanks to a solar heat pump installed in the lid, the bin would stay at fridge temperature all year around. People would put their food scraps in the bin for collection once a week. The bins would be dropped off at a depot in a new Churchill Polar Bear Park, which would have exercise stations, water slides and ice pools for the bears and lots of viewing points for tourists who wanted to see them close up. At dinnertime, or even at snack time, the bears would slip inside the depot for a feed. Any leftovers would be donated to worm farm bins and turned into compost, which the town would give away to residents to make up for the hike in taxes.
‘Brilliant!’ said Mayor Mike. ‘Churchill Polar Bear Park: I think I can sell that. Local businesses will love the boost to tourism, and the Provincial Government will kick in funds for the exercise stations, etc.’ He rubbed his mittens together. ‘This might just get me re-elected again!’
When the bears on the picket line heard the news, it was bear hugs all around. Their bear was appointed as Human Liaison Officer, and one of the others produced a scratched iPad for drawing out plans for the depot and viewing areas.
‘It’s a bear’s dream come true!’ said their bear, with moist eyes.
‘Yeah,’ said another bear. ‘And with less rubbish we might get rid of those weird lights, so we can get a good night’s sleep.’
The Crew froze.
‘What weird lights?’ asked Tark.
‘Up in the sky,’ said the bear, pointing. ‘Kind of like Northern Lights, but... brighter. And just over the dump.’
‘At first we thought it was from the methane gas we get from food scraps,’ said another bear. ‘But it doesn’t seem to matter how much or what we eat, the lights always come back.’
‘And did you see anything else?’ Tiger asked.
‘Anything else?’ said their bear. ‘Such as?’
‘A old guy with a big hat?’
The bears shook their heads in unison.
‘What about the UFO?’ a young bear called out from the back.
Several of the bears laughed. ‘That’s what comes of staying up past your bedtime,’ one of them said. ‘She reckons she saw a UFO. In Churchill. How ridiculous!’
‘I did,’ the young bear blubbered. ‘It looked like one of those ships out of Star Wars, only this one could hover in one spot.’
‘Now, Angela,’ said one of the older bears. ‘We’ve been through all this. And we stayed up till midnight three nights in a row and saw what?’
‘Nothing,’ Angela muttered.
‘What was that?’ said the older bear. ‘I didn’t hear you.’
‘NOTHING,’ cried Angela. ‘But I know what I saw!’
‘It’s getting pretty dark now,’ said Tark. ‘Would you mind if we checked it out tonight?’
‘I’m game,’ said their bear. ‘I’d love to see a UFO!’
‘Not this one,’ grumbled Number 12. ‘This one is bad news!’
They took turns keeping watch until dawn. On his second watch, Tiger thought he saw a dark shadow moving slowly across the lights, but by the time he woke Tark it was gone.
‘Even if we’d spotted a starship,’ Tark said at sunrise, ‘it wouldn’t have meant much. Just a scout keeping in contact with the main fleet, reporting back to Mick – wherever he is.’
And that, for the time being at least, would have to be that.
in which timber wolves start up a start-up
Even with his thickened fur coat, Tiger was happy enough to be leaving winter, Canada-style, behind as they headed south.
‘Why do they call it Yellowstone Park?’ Tiger asked, tapping in the coordinates that Tark gave him. ‘Rocks are supposed to be grey or black, not yellow.’
With the Nano Height Sensor setting on their holographic guidance system, the Crew were able to ooh and ah from close range at the tall mountains they had to skim over on their way to Yellowstone.
‘Try not to clip one of those,’ Wanda said, pointing at the jagged peaks. ‘I forgot to bring my ice axe and climbing shoes!’
‘Here we go!’ said Tiger, easing off on the anti-gravity jets.
This time, their landing was smooth as a fawn’s cheek.
Though there was still snow on the ground, it was melting and gathering in pools. Where the snow had melted away completely, they could see the ground was chalky white, even yellow, so Tiger had his answer for why the Park was called Yellowstone.
He wrinkled up his nose at the smell of rotting eggs, though there wasn’t a single chicken in sight.
‘Sulfur gas,’ Wanda explained. ‘We get that back home, in bat-caves, and the like.’
Just then, a jet of water burst from the ground straight up into the air. A sign along the boardwalk identified it as Old Faithful, the geyser.
‘Wow!’ said Syd, fluttering up to the highest point of the eruption. ‘It’s like a waterfall in reverse!’
Wanda examined the sign. ‘It says here that Old Faithful erupts every 65 minutes, give or take 10 minutes either way after an eruption lasting less than 2.5 minutes, or every 91 minutes, give or take 10 minutes, when the eruption lasts more than 2.5 minutes.’
‘My head is bursting,’ said Tiger, who was always happy to leave the reading to Wanda and the math to Alexander at home.
‘I don’t get it,’ said Number 12. ‘A geyser is a geyser. We’ll never get Old Faithful to sign up to the Project, so why are we here?’
‘Patience!’ said Tark. With a flick of his toe, his Telepathic Wave Synchronizer appeared, in holographic form, of course. Tark closed his eyes as if to tune in to the signal. Soon after, he began to quiver slightly, then glanced about, looking for something.
‘Wolves,’ he announced. ‘It says we need to locate some timber wolves.’
‘But if they’re timber wolves,’ Wanda said, ‘won’t we find them in a forest?’
‘True as,’ nodded Number 12. ‘The forest is up there, whereas we are down here. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. Also up there is snow, of which I’ve had my fill, while down here is warmth that reminds me of home – that is, desert. Except in the deserts I know, we have no geysers, and no yellow mud and sulfur pools, so maybe my comparison with a desert was a bit off.’
Tark cocked his head. ‘Are you quite finished now, Number 12?’
‘I don’t see how I can be finished,’ muttered Number 12, ‘when I feel so muddled about where we are, and how we can find timber wolves among these geysers.’
Tark sighed. ‘We walk, that’s how,’ he said. ‘We walk until we find them – or they find us!’
In a stroll that took much less energy than the conversation with Number 12, Tark let the Synchronizer guide them beyond the geysers, off the boardwalks, to an area of low scrub bushes and young trees.
‘This is more like it,’ said Number 12. ‘Yes, timber. Not very big timber, but timber nonetheless.’
‘I think his brain got frost-bitten up at Churchill,’ Wanda whispered to Tiger. ‘Is there any way to shut him up?’
The sight of three wolves in combat gear was enough to hush all of them.
They were dressed in black from head to toe – black bulletproof vest, bla
ck helmet, black holster cradling what appeared to be a black semi-automatic weapon of some sort, black boots. The only thing about them that wasn’t black was the steely gray-blue of their eyes, which seemed to stare right through the Crew as they approached. And their glinting and very sharp-looking teeth!
‘Papers?’ said the first wolf to Number 12, doubtlessly assuming the camel was in charge because he was the tallest.
‘Papers?’ said Number 12. ‘No, I get all of my news online these days. I haven’t bought a paper for years!’
All three wolves drew their guns at once and pointed them straight at Number 12.
‘I-I’m sorry,’ Number 12 stammered. ‘I thought they were free. Was I supposed to be paying for them?’
‘Please forgive him,’ Wanda said, stepping forward. ‘We think he got frostbitten on the way here. His brain hasn’t... thawed yet.’
The wolves switched their guns to Wanda.
‘Papers?’ the first wolf demanded again.
‘I think this is what you’re after,’ Tark said, turning the Synchronizer so the wolves could see the code that had appeared on its screen.
The first wolf squinted at the screen. ‘That’s more like it. You may pass through.’
He gestured behind him, but Tiger couldn’t see any walls, doors or even razor wire. He walked straight past them and smack into an invisible barrier that bounced him back like a furry tennis ball, so abruptly in fact that Tiger ended up sitting on the ground.
‘I didn’t say when,’ said the first wolf. ‘You can enter when I say when, OK?’
‘You’ve got an Anti-Matter Mirror,’ said Tark, impressed. ‘Haven’t seen one of these before on this side of the Milky Way.’
‘An Anti-Matter what?’ said the second wolf.
‘Mirror,’ Tark explained. ‘As well as keeping you out, it keeps everything on the other side invisible until you’re allowed to pass through. Like a one-way mirror.’
‘Whatever,’ said the first wolf. ‘We just call it a Yes/No Barrier: yes, you go through; or no, you end up sitting on your bum. Like that!’
The three wolves had a good chuckle to themselves as Tiger picked himself up.
Tark walked straight past Tiger and stuck his arm into the barrier. It vanished – until he drew it back out.
Tiger Takes the Big Apple Page 3