by Cas Lester
Pushing the others out of the way, he slid open a panel in the wall to reveal a store cupboard crammed with equipment – all stuffed in any old how. Out toppled two orange safety helmets, a purple rubber glove, a first aid box and a bright yellow fire extinguisher type thing.
He picked up a safety helmet but Maxie yanked it out of his hands.
‘We could all die!’
‘Hold it, Scrummage!’ she said. ‘You’ve absolutely no idea what’s in there, have you?’
Scrummage didn’t answer.
Turning to Harvey, she added: ‘Captain, if he opens those doors we could all die! We might be ambushed … blown to smithereens … melted … gassed … eaten alive or … ripped to shreds!’
‘Oh, Captain!’ cried Yargal, her blue tentacles flailing in terror, ‘I’m too young to be ambushed … blown to smithereens … melted … gassed … eaten alive or … or … ’
‘Ripped to shreds!’ prompted Maxie, helpfully.
Chapter Ten
Snuffles
‘You are the most reckless intergalactic bin man in the universe!’ shrieked Gizmo, launching himself at Scrummage.
But Harvey had dealt with a lot of hot tempers on the football pitch. He quickly stepped in and pushed them apart. ‘Gentlemen, please! There’ll be no fighting on my team … er, I mean, crew. Officer Scrummage, is there something dangerous in there? Yes or no? And I’m not asking you – I’m ordering you to tell me!’
Scrummage was taken aback by Harvey’s tone. ‘Um … er … ’ he muttered. ‘There might be … just a bit … ’
‘Oh, good grief!’ said Gizmo, rolling his bright turquoise eyes and running his hand through his short multicoloured hair.
Yargal burst into tears, slimy stringy ones that dangled from her face like hot mozzarella off a pizza.
‘Get Snuffles!’ said Maxie to Scrummage, who went off sheepishly.
(Again – and I don’t want to treat you like an idiot – since you’re from Earth I should probably explain that Snuffles is a Hazard Hunting Hound from the planet Canine Major. He sniffs out dangerous garbage.
Snuffles is enormous: as big as a pony. He has a huge pink nose like a large, raw meatball and so many razor-sharp teeth he literally can’t close his mouth. He’s terrifying.
Especially when he’s slipped his lead and is hurtling down a corridor towards you, teeth bared, feet scrabbling on the metal floor, drooling saliva and looking like he’ll tear you limb-from-limb.)
‘Aaaaaaaaargh!’ cried Harvey flinging his arms up to protect his head as the huge hound leapt at his face …
… and then slobbered all over him.
‘Don’t eat the captain!’ laughed Maxie.
‘Down, Snuffles!’ said Yargal firmly.
‘Sorry, Captain,’ panted Scrummage, running up and putting the lead back on. ‘Snuffles, SIT!’
Much to Harvey’s amazement, Snuffles sat.
Warily, he reached out to pat the hound on the head. Snuffles licked him.
‘He likes you!’ said Yargal.
‘Well, he likes the taste of you,’ said Maxie darkly.
Harvey ignored her. She was just trying to scare him. He liked dogs. Even ridiculously huge ones with more teeth than the average Great White shark. He scratched the dog under the chin and Snuffles grinned and slobbered happily.
Gobsmacking bravery
‘Right, I can’t hold Snuffles and deal with the garbage at the same time, so who’s coming with me?’ said Scrummage.
Harvey didn’t think there was much point in him offering since he didn’t have a clue what to do. He looked at the crew, one after another.
‘Not me,’ said Gizmo. ‘I’m the Senior Engineering Officer – I don’t deal with the garbage. That’s a job for bin men.’
Scrummage glared at him.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Yargal, waggling her tentacles, ‘but the safety kit doesn’t fit me.’
‘I’m the only one who can fly the ship,’ said Maxie. ‘You’re on your own, Scrummage.’ And she shoved the safety helmet back at him.
He took it. ‘Wimps! You’re just scared of the maggots.’
‘I’ll help,’ said Harvey, taking hold of the hound’s lead. ‘I’m not scared of a few maggots.’
The crew were gobsmacked. Never, in all their multiple intergalactic missions, had anyone volunteered – actually volunteered – to do something dangerous. Come to think of it, never, in all their multiple intergalactic missions, had anyone volunteered – actually volunteered – to do anything at all.
‘You’re not serious?’ said Maxie. ‘You’re the captain! Why don’t you just make Gizmo go?’
Gizmo gasped and gave her a filthy look.
‘Because you can’t ask someone to do something you won’t do yourself,’ replied Harvey coolly.
‘Vomiting spaceworms! You really are braver than you look!’ said Scrummage, regarding Harvey with a great deal of respect. Anyone can look brave, but not everyone can be brave. Even Scrummage had to admit that.
‘Oh, well done, Captain!’ said Gizmo, shaking Harvey’s hand.
Safety first
‘Be careful,’ said Yargal, giving him a soggy squeeze. While Scrummage pulled on his safety gear, Maxie rummaged around in the storage unit. She hauled out a screwed-up, crumpled pair of green-and-yellow overalls and handed them to Harvey together with one of the orange safety helmets and a pair of purple gloves.
(You’ve probably noticed that people from Zeryx Minor like bright colours. They also have no sense of style.)
‘Put these on,’ said Maxie to Harvey. ‘Of course, if the garbage does explode they won’t stop you from being blown into thousands of little pieces so small we’ll have to scoop you up with a teaspoon. But at least they’ll keep the maggots out. Good luck,’ she added and gave him a small, quick smile.
‘Thank you,’ said Harvey, smiling back bravely.
Gizmo punched the security code into the door keypad lock, and the corridor was filled with the horrible screeching, grating sound of rusty metal on metal as the jagged teeth of the giant doors began to judder and scrape open.
Harvey zipped his gloves on, wondering why everyone was so worried about a few maggots …
As soon as he stepped into the cargo hold he found out.
SPLATTER, SPLAT, FLICKER, SPLAT!
‘OH, YUCK!’ gasped Harvey.
‘Flickering puke!’ cried Scrummage.
It was raining maggots.
Hundreds of tiny, pink poisonous ones plastered them like rice pudding.
‘Don’t panic, we’ll hose off with anti-maggot spray later,’ said Scrummage. ‘Just don’t let them get inside your clothes.’
Curiously, not a single maggot landed on Snuffles. Possibly because they didn’t like his fur. But probably because they didn’t like his teeth.
Toxic slop!
The cargo hold of the Toxic Spew was one huge rubbish bin, but that doesn’t even begin to describe it. Quite honestly, unless you’ve actually been inside a giant wheelie bin – one that hasn’t been cleared out for months, if ever – then you’re going to struggle to grasp how unbelievably horrible it was.
The walls were stained and streaked with a disgusting assortment of slime and slop. And the floor was so tacky with gungy grime you could actually hear your boots sticking at every step. It was the most disgusting place Harvey had ever been. Frankly, it was the most disgusting place Scrummage had ever been too – and that says a lot.
After a while the maggot downpour stopped, and just the odd one or two plopped on them.
Cautiously they edged forward.
Snuffles seemed to sense the danger and, for a huge and savage-looking beast, walked amazingly carefully on his four massive fluffy paws.
‘Steady, Captain,’ said Scrummage. ‘We don’t want to trigger another explosion.’
Scraping pink maggot sludge from his helmet visor, Harvey could see a colossal pile of rotting rubbish in the centre of the floor. Half-buried underneath it
lay five or six large metal barrels. They were black, and painted on their sides was a white skull and the words ‘TOXIC SLOP’. They looked well dodgy.
One of the drums had obviously exploded, splattering the cargo hold with dollops of a thick grey gloop that was steaming gently.
Scrummage took Snuffles from Harvey.
‘SNIFF, Snuffles, SNIFF!’ he commanded, and let the enormous hound loose.
Gingerly, Snuffles went over to one of the large black tubs. Harvey crossed his fingers, held his breath and hoped nothing would blow up. Suddenly the huge hound yelped a series of short, sharp barks, and promptly lay down whimpering with his paws over his eyes.
‘Oh, that’s not good,’ muttered Scrummage. ‘That’s not good at all. I hate to worry you, Captain,’ he whispered and looked around, frightened that someone might hear him. ‘But I think he may have found some … ’
Suddenly he froze, and a look of terror shot into his eyes. ‘Oh no!’ he gasped.
‘What?’ cried Harvey. ‘What is it?’
But Scrummage had grabbed the seat of his overall trousers, and was sprinting to the doors, screaming.
Snuffles bounded after him, with Harvey not far behind.
Chapter Eleven
Death by killer maggot
They burst through the cargo doors as if their boots were rocket powered.
‘Help!’ yelled Scrummage. ‘HELP! There’s a maggot in my underpants!’
Amazingly, the crew swung into action like the well-trained team that they weren’t. Maxie grabbed the small yellow fire extinguisher type thing. Yargal rummaged frantically through the first aid box with all her six tentacles. Even Gizmo helped Scrummage strip off his safety gear.
‘Hold still!’ said Maxie, thrusting the yellow sprayer into his overalls.
‘I can’t … ’ Scrummage wriggled. ‘It’ll get me … ’
WHOOSH!
A fountain of bright green steam spewed everywhere, terrifying Snuffles who yowled and yelped and strained at his lead.
‘Aaaargh!’ yelled Scrummage.
‘WOOF, WOOF, HOOOOOOOWL!’
Harvey grabbed the hound’s lead. ‘Down, Snuffles, down!’ he yelled, struggling to hold him.
It was chaos on the Toxic Spew – but then, what’s new?
Suddenly Scrummage froze.
‘It’s bitten my bum!’ he gasped.
Harvey was stunned to see Yargal stab Scrummage in the neck with what looked like a metal pen. But not as stunned as Scrummage, who instantly keeled over and thudded onto the deck, out cold.
Ouch, thought Harvey.
‘Get him to the sick room!’ ordered Medical Officer Yargal.
‘I think I’m dying!’
The sick room of the Toxic Spew looked exactly as it sounded. A room where someone had been sick – horribly sick – and was too poorly to clear it up afterwards.
Maxie and Gizmo had gone back to the command bridge. But Harvey was worried about Scrummage. He wasn’t sure about taking Snuffles into a medical area but soon saw the room was so filthy it couldn’t do any harm. Harvey didn’t like to think what had caused the marks on the walls and ceiling, but it looked a lot like dried vomit.
Scrummage lay on a bed and groaned pathetically. Computer cables trailed across him like spaghetti and eventually plugged into a Medi-Monitor on the wall. The screen showed complicated charts and graphs.
Weakly, Scrummage held out his hand to Harvey. ‘Captain,’ he groaned. ‘I think I’m dying!’
Harvey didn’t know what to say. He was used to players getting injured on the football pitch but this looked a whole lot worse.
Yargal squelched her slug-like way through bits of bandage, old sticking plasters and clumps of cotton wool littering the floor. Picking up what looked like a wind-up torch in one tentacle she shone the beam over Scrummage.
A single sentence appeared on the Medi-Monitor:
DON’T WORRY – HE’S FINE!
‘Well, that’s a relief,’ said Yargal and then, turning to Harvey, added, ‘Captain, shouldn’t you be on the bridge? I can bring Scrummage up when he’s feeling a bit better.’
‘Right,’ said Harvey, kicking himself. As the captain he should probably have gone straight to the bridge and left the Medical Officer to look after Scrummage. Maxie would be having a good laugh about that behind his back, he thought.
‘Er … what shall I do with Snuffles?’
‘You could send him to his basket but he hates being on his own. Why not take him with you?’ said Yargal, unplugging the Medi-Monitor. ‘It’s up to you. You’re Captain!’
(Can I just make this clear – Harvey absolutely wasn’t scared of Snuffles. But he didn’t know if the hound would do as he was told. Fine captain he’d look if he couldn’t even order the ship’s dog around, he thought. Especially in front of Maxie.)
So he said: ‘Snuffles, to your basket!’ The hazard hound nudged Harvey’s hand with his meatball nose, whined and looked up with pleading eyes.
‘TO YOUR BASKET!’ commanded Harvey again, firmly. To his surprise, Snuffles obediently shot off.
(Did I say surprise? More of a shock, really.)
Snuffles yanked him right off his feet, out of the sick room and along the corridor.
‘You might want to take his lead off first … ’ called Yargal helpfully.
‘Wooooah!’ yelled Harvey … then, ‘STOP!’ … then, ‘HELP!’ … And then, when no help came: ‘SIT!’
Snuffles instantly sat and grinned at Harvey, showing all his terrifying teeth.
‘Good dog,’ said Harvey, patting him on the head. Snuffles did the nudge with the meatball nose and the pleading look again. Harvey sighed, and took Snuffles with him to the bridge.
Chapter Twelve
Waiting to be blasted to smithereens
‘A hazard hound on the command bridge?’ challenged Maxie, pushing her rolled sleeves up as she sat at the flight controls.
‘Yes,’ said Harvey.
Snuffles promptly started snaffling up all the leftover bits of pizza off the deck and licking bits of dried food from the empty cartons.
‘Oh, good idea, Captain!’ said Gizmo, and threw Snuffles a pizza crust from under the engineering desk.
Maxie rolled her bright turquoise eyes.
Harvey sat himself in the captain’s chair in what he hoped was a firm and commanding manner.
‘How’s Scrummage?’ asked Maxie.
‘Who cares!’ snorted Gizmo. ‘Did you find anything dangerous in the garbage hold?’
‘Um … yes,’ said Harvey.
‘I knew it!’ spluttered Gizmo. ‘What?’
‘I don’t know. Scrummage was about to tell me when the maggot bit him on the bum.’
‘So what are we going to do, Captain?’ demanded Maxie.
‘Nothing yet,’ said Harvey.
‘Nothing?’
‘If I was captain … ’ started Gizmo.
‘Which you’re not!’ interrupted Maxie.
Gizmo carried on. ‘If I was captain, I’d make Scrummage empty the cargo hold all by himself, and then put him on toilet cleaning duty – forever.’
‘Thank you, I’ll bear that in mind. But right now, there’s nothing we can do until we know what we’re dealing with,’ said Harvey sensibly. ‘So unless either of you would like to take a look … ’
(It probably won’t surprise you to know neither of them volunteered.)
Maxie drummed her fingers on the desk. ‘Oh, great! Let’s just sit here twiddling our thumbs, waiting to be blasted to smithereens and splattered across the entire length and width of the galaxy by some unidentified but highly explosive rubbish! Fine captain you turned out to be.’
Lunch!
Harvey didn’t know what to say. So he said nothing. Always a good tactic. Scrummage was still groggy when Yargal brought him to the bridge a little later. She carried a stack of boxes in her tentacles. ‘Lunch!’ she announced. Everyone grabbed one greedily.
She handed a box to H
arvey. ‘I did you my Supersonic Special.’
He opened it eagerly. He was starving. Which was a shame, because inside was the most revolting pizza he had ever seen.
‘Tuna and raspberry trifle with mashed sprouts and curry sauce!’ said Yargal proudly.
‘Er … yummy,’ he lied, and then realised with horror that he was actually going to have to eat it.
‘Well, Scrummage?’ said Maxie, with her mouth full of pizza.
Scrummage coughed nervously, spraying out several bits of chewed pizza crust. ‘Um … I think it might just be possible … that we may have picked up a small amount of … um … Explo-Foam,’ he finished weakly.
Gizmo and Maxie leapt out of their seats, their pizzas flying to the deck where Snuffles snaffled them in a flash.
‘WHAT!?’
(I hate to interrupt the flow of the story, but I don’t think you get Explo-Foam on Earth, do you? It’s cheap rocket fuel. You pour it into the engine, heat it until it explodes and literally blasts the spacecraft violently into orbit.
Well, that’s the idea. But usually the ship blows up instead. So it’s banned and no one’s allowed to have any. Not even a teeny tiny teaspoonful. Let alone several large tubs. If the Intergalactic Traffic Police catch you with it you’re in dead trouble. Of course, you’ll probably be dead long before then anyway …
And if Gizmo had his way, Scrummage would be dead any second now …
Actually, if you don’t like violence, you might want to skip the next bit.)
‘You raving lunatic!’ said Gizmo, grabbing Scrummage by the throat.
‘Let him go!’ said Harvey.
THROTTLE, SHAKE, THROTTLE
GLURCH, CHOKE, CHOKE
Scrummage turned a brighter purple than usual.