First Cows on the Mooon

by Steve Cole

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title Page

  Dedication

  The C.I.A. Files

  Prof. McMoo’s Timeline of Notable Historical Events

  Chapter One: UFO or Moo-FO?

  Chapter Two: Double the Trouble

  Chapter Three: Journey to the Space Centre of the Earth

  Chapter Four: Security Shocks

  Chapter Five: The Moo-nace Beneath

  Chapter Six: Poison!

  Chapter Seven: Deadly Discoveries

  Chapter Eight: Blastoff Bedlam

  Chapter Nine: Lunar-Sea!

  Chapter Ten: Battle by Earthlight

  Chapter Eleven: ‘Air-Raising!

  Chapter Twelve: The Moon-Rock Future-Shock

  About the Author

  Also by Steve Cole

  Copyright

  About the Book

  CLOSE EN-COW-NTERS OF THE CRAZY KIND!

  Genius cow Professor McMoo and his trusty sidekicks, Pat and Bo, are star agents of the C.I.A. – short for Cows In Action! They travel through time, fighting evil bulls from the future and keeping history on the right track.

  The super-cow agents chase two ter-moo-nators to America in 1969 – and find the Apollo space programme is in bullish bother. To foil their foes, the C.I.A. must go where no cow has gone beef-ore – to the moon, where a showdown with sinister space-cattle awaits . . .

  It’s time for action. Cows In Action.

  For Captain Denis Dallaire, US Air Force – technical advisor, brother-in-law and friend

  THE C. I. A. FILES

  Cows from the present – Fighting in the past to protect the future …

  In the year 2550, after thousands of years of being eaten and milked, cows finally live as equals with humans in their own country of Luckyburger. But a group of evil war-loving bulls – the Fed-up Bull Institute – is not satisfied.

  Using time machines and deadly ter-moo-nator agents, the F.B.I. is trying to change Earth’s history. These bulls plan to enslave all humans and put savage cows in charge of the planet. Their actions threaten to plunge all cowkind into cruel and cowardly chaos …

  The C.I.A. was set up to stop them.

  However, the best agents come not from 2550 – but from the present. From a time in the early 21st century, when the first clever cows began to appear. A time when a brainy bull named Angus McMoo invented the first time machine, little realizing he would soon become the F.B.I.’s number one enemy …

  COWS OF COURAGE – TOP SECRET FILES

  PROFESSOR ANGUS MCMOO

  Security rating: Bravo Moo Zero

  Stand-out features: Large white squares on coat, outstanding horns

  Character: Scatterbrained, inventive, plucky and keen

  Likes: Hot tea, history books, gadgets

  Hates: Injustice, suffering, poor-quality tea bags

  Ambition: To invent the electric sundial

  LITTLE BO VINE

  Security rating: For your cow pies only

  Stand-out features: Luminous udder (colour varies)

  Character: Tough, cheeky, ready-for-anything rebel

  Likes: Fashion, chewing gum, self-defence classes

  Hates: Bessie Barmer, the farmer’s wife

  Ambition: To run her own martial arts club for farmyard animals

  PAT VINE

  Security rating: Licence to fill (stomach with grass)

  Stand-out features: Zigzags on coat

  Character: Brave, loyal and practical

  Likes: Solving problems, anything Professor McMoo does

  Hates: Flies not easily swished by his tail

  Ambition: To find a five-leaf clover – and to survive his dangerous missions!

  Chapter One

  UFO OR MOO-FO?

  The moon was full and silver-bright over Farmer Barmer’s organic farm. Most of the animals were sound asleep in barns or pens or sties. But one young bullock called Pat Vine was wide-awake in his field, peering up at the stars through a homemade telescope.

  “Star-gazing’s amazing!” he murmured. “I can see the Big Dipper!”

  “You are a big dipper,” came a voice behind him.

  Pat turned to see his big sister smiling cheekily at him. “Hello, Little Bo,” he said – then noticed her udder was glowing bright yellow. “What happened to you?”

  “I found some luminous paint in a barn,” Bo explained. “I thought I’d slap some on to light my way when I sneak out for my nightly kickboxing practice. After all, if anyone found me holding a torch, they might suspect that I’m no ordinary cow.”

  Pat frowned. “How many ordinary cows have luminous udders?”

  “I don’t know, I never look – a cow’s udder is her own business.” Bo folded her arms. “Anyway, how many ordinary bullocks own a telescope?”

  “It’s not mine,” said Pat. “I borrowed it from the professor. He made it himself – isn’t he brilliant?”

  “Yep,” Bo agreed. “Or brilliantly barmy, anyway!”

  Pat smiled. Professor Angus McMoo was the brainiest bull in the world – and, most likely, in all the other worlds you could spot through his telescope. McMoo, Pat and Bo were Emmsy-Squares, a rare breed of very clever cattle. But that wasn’t the only extraordinary thing about them …

  Bo shoved Pat out of the way and squinted through the ’scope. “I suppose the moon is pretty cool. How does that old human song go? Hey diddle diddle, the bull did a widdle …”

  “He did not!” The burly, red-brown figure of Professor McMoo burst out of his nearby shed. “Or if he did, he certainly washed his hooves afterwards.” With a grin he straightened his spectacles. “I think you’ll find it’s: Hey diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle …”

  “The cow jumped over the moon,” Pat remembered with a smile. “Oh, wouldn’t it be amazing to go up into space?”

  “It would be a good laugh,” Bo said. “If you were really smart, Professor, you’d have turned your shed into a spaceship – not a rickety old time machine!”

  “Oi!” McMoo frowned. “That ‘rickety old time machine’ of mine can whizz you anywhere on the planet, into the past, present or future – isn’t that out-of-this-world enough for you?”

  “It certainly is,” said Pat loyally.

  “I suppose so,” agreed Bo. “After all, if the Time Shed was a Space Shed, we’d never have joined the Cows In Action!”

  Pat could hardly remember life before the crime-busting, time-busting C.I.A. had travelled back from the future and asked the clever cows to join their fight against the F.B.I. – the Fed-up Bull Institute. Although in the twenty-sixth century cows lived as equals with humans, these villainous bulls were always trying to change history and start a new age of dia-bull-ical tyranny over cows and humans alike. And so McMoo, Pat and Bo had agreed to postpone the carefree tour through time they had planned, and join the C.I.A.’s ranks instead.

  “That’s funny,” the professor said suddenly. “I thought I saw something shimmying past the moon …” He peered through the telescope. “I wonder … could it have been a UFO?”

  “A what?” asked Bo.

  “An Unidentified Flying Object,” McMoo explained, giving the telescope to Bo. “A flying saucer. An alien spaceship.”

  Pat gulped. “Aliens? Flying past the moon?”

  “Yeah, very likely.” Bo turned the telescope towards the farmhouse. “Ugh, this thing should come with a health warning, Prof! I just got a big-time close-up view of Bessie Barmer and her mum!”

  Pat shuddered. Bessie was Farmer Barmer’s wife, a fearsome fatty who hated all the livestock. For the last week she’d had her mum Gertie staying, on a visit from America. It had not been a pleasant time
. By day the farmyard resounded with the two women’s heavy footsteps and mocking voices, and by night it shook with their mean laughter.

  “I overheard Bessie telling Farmer Barmer she was going to spring a surprise on her mother tonight,” said McMoo thoughtfully. “I wonder what …”

  “We can spy on them!” Bo suggested, giving the telescope to Pat. “They’re gassing away in the front room right now.”

  Pat pressed his eye to the eyepiece and gasped as he saw Gertie up close. She was twice as old as her daughter and three times as hefty. And by reading their lips he could tell what the two nasty ladies were saying.

  “Oh, no!” he cried, almost dropping the telescope. “Gertie just told Bessie she likes it here so much she wants to stay for ever!” More spiteful chuckles came out of the farmhouse. “And … Bessie just said she’ll knock down our shed to build Gertie a cottage!”

  “No way!” Bo groaned. “I know Bessie’s a pain in the butt, but I love living here on the farm.”

  “Professor,” asked Pat, “what can we do? I don’t want to move!”

  “You might change your tune,” said McMoo grimly, still staring up into the night sky. “Give me that telescope …”

  Pat passed it to the professor, then peered at the stars too. Even with the naked eye he could see a bright dot growing slowly larger. “Is it a spaceship, Professor?”

  “Yes.” McMoo passed him the telescope. “And it’s headed our way!”

  Pat gasped as he saw a spinning disc, bristling with guns and covered with thick black and white splodges. “It’s … patterned like cow hide!”

  “Let me see!” Bo snatched the ’scope and saw it for herself. “You’re right. Never mind your UFO, Prof – that thing is a Moo-FO!”

  With a sudden surge of speed the unlikely object swooped into clear sight overhead. Bo stared up, petrified. “There … there’s writing on that thing.”

  “F.B.I. Space Patrol,” McMoo read, sounding grave. “Looks like our enemies have changed tactics. Instead of travelling through time to get us, they’ve journeyed across the stars!”

  “And there are more Moo-FOs on the way! Look!”

  Pat tried not to quiver as more of the spinning, cow-coloured saucers came hurtling out of the starry darkness.

  Then, suddenly, two towering, battle-scarred bull-creatures jumped out of the nearest spaceship and crashed down to earth. They were clad in ragged red spacesuits and dented armour. Green eyes glowed behind blank metal masks, and sabre-sharp horns stuck out of their round glass space helmets. One wore a heavy-duty laser gun on his left wrist.

  McMoo nodded grimly at the gruesome figures. “Well, well. Two of the F.B.I.’s most deadly agents – ter-moo-nators!”

  “We have come to destroy you,” said the larger of the two monsters in a mechanical voice. “The humans of this planet are finally doomed – and so are the three of you!”

  Chapter Two

  DOUBLE THE TROUBLE

  McMoo eyed the sinister cow-ships gathering in the sky and took a deep breath. “Well, this is charming,” he said mildly to the two ter-moo-nators. “But, please, won’t you introduce yourselves before you blast us into oxtail soup?”

  “You pretend not to know us?” rasped the smaller one. “You do not recognize T-312, your old enemy?”

  “And me, the deadly T-207?” droned the other.

  “Nope,” the professor admitted. “I’ve never seen either of you before in my life. Perhaps your memory-banks have blown a fuse …”

  T-207’s eyes glowed brighter. “Negative.”

  “We have spent decades in the darkness of space, longing to destroy you,” said T-312, raising his gun. “And finally, the time has come—”

  “Watch it, Professor!” Pat hurled himself at McMoo, knocking him clear, just as a blast of laser-light shot from the gun. KA-ZAMMM! A fence behind him exploded in flames.

  At the same time, Bo punched T-312 with all her strength and sent him staggering into T-207. Both robo-bulls collapsed in a heap.

  “Thanks,” McMoo told his friends as Pat helped him up. “I was very nearly flame-grilled!”

  “Quick!” cried Bo. “Retreat to the Time Shed.”

  “So we can contact the C.I.A. for help?” McMoo frowned. “That’s a very sensible idea – not like you at all.”

  “You don’t understand.” Bo pointed to the farmhouse. “Bessie and Gertie are coming outside – and I can’t fight when I’m feeling completely sick!”

  Pat and McMoo turned to see the whopping, sour-faced ratbags stomping outside.

  “What’s all this racket?” Bessie hollered – then took in the ter-moo-nators and their Moo-FO. “Eeeeek! Look – metal bulls from outer space!”

  Gertie Barmer’s crinkled face screwed up in a frown. “Aww, no way! It can’t be …”

  The ter-moo-nators swung round stiffly at the interruption and fired their death rays at the Barmers. The wall behind the women blew up in a hail of stone and sparks. “Oww!” Bessie hollered as she and Gertie dived behind a trough for cover. “Those bricks hit my bum!”

  “They could hardly miss,” Pat commented.

  “Come on, while those robo-bulls are distracted,” McMoo yelled. “Leg it!”

  The three Cows In Action pounded over to the shelter of the professor’s barn. But as they approached, a creaking, grinding sound started up from within.

  McMoo skidded to a stop in shock. “Someone’s powering up the Time Shed!”

  Pat ran on ahead with Bo. “Perhaps it’s one of our C.I.A. friends from the future, come to lend a helping hoof.”

  Bo kicked open the door – and gasped. “Nice thought, little bruv – but dead wrong.”

  Ordinarily, Pat’s eyes would be drawn to the transformation of the shed as it switched from grotty outbuilding to super-incredible time machine – the way hidden systems in the walls spun round into sight, and a huge, horseshoe-shaped bank of controls slid up from the ground in the middle. But right now his attention was fixed on the two terrifying, robotic bull-creatures turning to face him.

  “Oh, no,” groaned McMoo, following his friends inside. “More ter-moo-nators!”

  Pat stood his ground and studied the new arrivals. They looked just the same as the monsters outside, except they weren’t wearing space helmets and their armour was gleaming, with not a scratch to be seen. Branded on their burnished bronze breastplates were familiar numbers …

  “Professor!” Bo gasped. “These tin-heads are called T-207 and T-312 – just like the ter-moo-nators outside!”

  “What’s going on?” McMoo demanded.

  “Silence,” rasped T-312 as T-207 started dismantling the banks of controls. “How dare you interrupt us while we are stealing your technology.”

  “You are not,” said McMoo. “It took me years to pinch that stuff from the bins of the scientist next door … you can’t just—”

  “SILENCE.” T-312 raised his gun and fired at the three agents. McMoo pushed his friends behind a hay bale as the death ray zapped past and blew up a control panel. The ter-moo-nator fired again, and the ground at McMoo’s hooves erupted in molten mud, hurling him backwards.

  Pat peeped out from behind a hay bale. “How come you’re called the same as the ter-moo-nators outside?” he demanded. “You even look the same.”

  “This data does not compute,” T-312 snarled. “No two ter-moo-nators have the same number. And we have not been outside – our portable F.B.I. time machine brought us straight into this shed.”

  As he spoke, T-207 yanked a piece of equipment and a bright yellow lever clean out of the console in a spray of sparks. Then he smashed his steel hoof down on a microphone beside it.

  “That does it!” yelled Bo. She somersaulted over the haystack in kung moo mode and tried kicking T-207 in the tum. But the ter-moo-nator batted her away, and T-312 fired his heavy-duty hoof blaster once more. Bo dived for cover as the laser struck the shed doors, knocking them open – to reveal the two scuffed and battered ter-moo-nators sti
ll standing there.

  Pat stared. “How can those tin-heads be out there and in here at the same time?”

  “They must be from two different times!” McMoo realized, struggling to his hooves. “That’s why the ter-moo-nators outside know us: they’re older versions of the ter-moo-nators in here.”

  “My brain hurts just thinking about it,” Bo complained. “But look – the younger ones are pushing off!”

  Still holding the battered metal box with the yellow lever attached, the two shiny ter-moo-nators had hopped onto their time transporter – a large silver platter – and were already fading away. “Objectives achieved,” warbled T-207, his mechanical tones lingering in the air. “Proceeding to the past to complete our mission …”

  “Quick, Bo – close the doors before those old timers can get inside.” McMoo ran over to the scorched controls and sighed. “Great. The communicator’s been zapped – now we can’t even call the C.I.A. for help!”

  Bo jammed the smoking doors shut. “So what can we do?”

  “Well,” said the professor, “the drive systems are still working – we’d better get going.”

  “We can’t just leave the world to be destroyed by killer cows and push off to another time!” cried Bo.

  “We must,” said McMoo grimly. “With the C.I.A. out of contact, the only way we can foil this crazy invasion is to track those ter-moo-nators through time and stop them from starting it in the first place.”

  Pat gulped. “But their attack is already happening, right now. I thought it was really dangerous to try to change history?”