by Erin Downing
Luna continued to stare at the hologram in the center of the space bus living room, waiting to see why Tont was acting so strangely. There was no sound coming from the hologram, but Tont’s face was moving just enough that Luna was pretty sure the video playback hadn’t gotten frozen or anything. He just looked stunned into silence.
A moment later, Geela—dressed in an elaborate ball gown—stepped across the stage and joined her host in front of the main camera. The Dancing with the Empress host continued to stare, saying nothing. Finally, Geela snapped, “What is it, Tont?”
“She’s wearing a turban!” Luna shrieked, calling the other girls into the room. “Look!”
In fact, Geela’s head was wrapped tight in a paisley turban. “Even magnificent, all-powerful empresses have bad hair days from time to time,” Geela snapped, refusing to look at the camera.
“Aw, poor thing. She should have tried Solar Glow. Bad hair days begone!” Luna said, repeating the product’s advertising catchphrase.
“Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to leave your wigs unattended, G,” Rhea said in a pitying voice. “Something bad could’ve happen to them.”
Rand strolled into the room just as Rhea said that. He glanced at the hologram of his beloved empress and shook his head. Rand loved Geela. In fact, most of his T-shirts had her face silk-screened across his ample belly. “Oh, man,” Rand said sadly. “Her hair always looks so pretty. Why is she wearing that colorful toilet paper around her head?”
“It’s a turban,” Hera told him.
“Whatever it is, I liked the way she looked before,” Rand pouted. Sighing and muttering to himself, he carried on through the living room to pour himself a bowl of Asteroid Crunch from the ship’s kitchen. Just as he went out one door, the five SPACEPOP pets bounded in another—each wearing one of Geela’s wigs. The five little critters looked utterly ridiculous in the too large, elaborate hairstyles. When they began to beatbox and dance around the room, it was impossible not to laugh.
But after watching a few seconds of their performance, Juno got serious again. Sarcastically, she said, “So we ruined the mighty empress’s wigs and stole a few others. Major victory for the Resistance. Yay us!”
Athena nodded. “In the grand scheme of things, no, it’s not a major victory—you’re right. But it’s a minor setback, and with enough minor setbacks, Geela will weaken. We’re slowly breaking her down.”
“We don’t have time for slowly breaking her down,” Juno said, punching the hologram. Her hand went right through Geela’s arm. “She has our families. I want to shatter her empire, once and for all.”
“We all do,” Athena agreed. “So let’s figure out a way to get clearance to land on the last two suspicious planets. Now that we’ve ruled out Kantal-ka, Lud, and Pallomo as hiding places for the Dungeon of Dark Doom, it is very likely Geela is hiding her prisoners—our families—on either Tik-tik or Pluton.”
Luna took a deep breath and said, “I found a way to get to Tik-tik.”
“Great!” Hera said. “A small gig or an arena thing?”
“Well…” Luna began. “There’s this huge concert happening tomorrow night—it will be live-broadcast to the entire galaxy—and I got an invite.”
“You did?” Athena asked, confused. “Why didn’t the booking come through Chamberlin?”
“It’s not a band thing,” Luna told the others, biting her lip. “They only want me.”
“You?” Juno asked.
“Me. I got an e-mail from the organizers this morning, asking if I wanted to be a part of it. They’re calling the event Sopranos Unplugged, and some of the best-known soloists will be performing onstage together.”
“You’re not a solo artist,” Athena reminded her. “You’re part of a group. Our group.”
“Yeah, about that … for this event, unplugged doesn’t mean unplugged from our amps and mics and stuff—they want to see us unplugged from our backup bands. They’re hoping to showcase the true artistry of solo voices.”
Juno and Rhea gawked at Luna. “Your words or theirs?” Juno asked.
“Theirs,” Luna said hurriedly. “I love playing with you guys, and I obviously asked if you could perform with me. But they said no. At this event, it’s all about my voice.” She swept her arms into the air and announced, “Luna … Live!” Then she hastily added, “Of course, I told them I needed SPACEPOP to come with me for backstage support, and, um, for wardrobe.”
“As annoying as this is going to be, it is a way for us to get clearance to land on Tik-tik,” said Rhea, cringing. “So Luna Live, here we come.”
* * *
“Luna, you’re on in five!” A production assistant popped her head inside Luna’s dressing room. “Ready?”
“Almost,” Luna said, spritzing her hair with one more blast of hair spray. She glanced at her bandmates, who were happily devouring all the snacks that had been delivered to Luna’s dressing room. Luna chewed her lower lip nervously. “How do I look?”
“Okay,” Rhea said thoughtfully, stepping forward. “But something’s not quite right. You know what would look even better?”
Luna’s eyes went wide. “What? What’s wrong?”
Rhea reached out one hand and touched Luna’s hair. “This.” She pulled one of Geela’s wigs out from behind her back and tried to stuff it over Luna’s hair.
Luna batted it away. “Ew! Get that away from me.”
“You look great,” Rhea promised, giving her a quick hug. “Break a leg out there, okay? Make us all look good.”
“I will,” Luna promised. She took a deep breath. “I never thought I’d say this, but it’s going to feel strange being up onstage without all of you behind me. I’m a little nervous.”
“Don’t be,” Athena said. “You’ll be great.”
Luna smiled. “Thanks, Athena. Oh! And I hope you don’t mind, but I borrowed the Amp It Up. I’ve been dying to see if that little box actually works as well as the company says it will. If it does, I’ll certainly stand out on stage!” Athena started to say something, but Luna cut her off. “And since you totally object to it—I figure I can give it a shot on my own and see if it’s worth using at one of our bigger shows. Fair enough? Seems silly not to at least try the thing. It could be magic.”
Athena shook her head, disapproving. “Just be careful. The letter they sent with it said if you use the amp wrong, glass can break and metal will shred. Seems unlikely such a tiny thing could do much damage, but be careful.”
“I’m a pro,” Luna said, smiling. “Amp me up, babe!” As she made her way to the stage for her turn in the solo spotlight, the other girls donned their Resistance outfits and prepared for their secret mission to find the Dungeon of Dark Doom.
Hansome had sent each of them a frost-proof under-layer that he promised would combat the subzero temperatures on Tik-tik. He had also sent along special breathing devices that would (hopefully) block out the horrible odor on the gaseous planet. Even Rand—who rarely complained about anything—had moaned about the stench on Tik-tik when they landed. Despite the frozen air, the atmosphere around the planet smelled like cooked brussels sprouts and swamp water. Chamberlin said it hadn’t always smelled funny, but that everything about the Tik-tik air had changed since Geela’s troops moved in.
“You know what seems a little odd?” Hera asked as they crept out the back of the theater into the frozen Tik-tik afternoon. Though the early-evening sky was bright and sunny, it was bitterly cold, and the girls’ frosty breath clouded the air whenever they spoke. “It seems like this is the kind of show Geela would weasel her way into.”
“Oh my Grock, you’re right,” Juno said, quickly putting her foot in the door before it closed and locked behind them. “If this is a showcase of the galaxy’s most distinguished singers—broadcast live on one of the many networks Geela has taken control of—it seems like exactly the kind of thing she would have insisted she be included in.”
“The mighty empress always gets her way,” Rhea said. “
So where is she?”
“It concerns me that she’s not here,” Athena said. “I don’t think we should leave Luna alone in the theater until we’re sure it’s safe. I wouldn’t put it past Geela to do something horrible that would eliminate the competition. If she wants to be a famous singer, the only way she’s going to succeed is if there is literally no other music available in the galaxy.”
The group raced back inside, quickly covering their Resistance outfits with a collection of fake furs and velvet capes they found on a stray wardrobe rack. They peered around a curtain to get a look at the performance that was taking place onstage. Luna and one of the other sopranos—Callista from Arion IV—were sitting on stools in the center of the stage, singing over each other. Floating camera bots surrounded the two of them while the small studio audience gazed up at them, rapt. Luna and Callista layered their vocals, their voices lifting and curling to fill the space.
“Luna sounds good,” Juno said.
“She really does,” said Rhea. “Her diva attitude drives me crazy ninety percent of the time, but we’re definitely lucky to have her as our lead singer.”
“No question about it, she’s a million times less of a diva than Callista,” Bradbury whispered, pressing his face into the cluster of SPACEPOP girls. The band greeted him, not at all surprised to see their biggest fan at the show. Bradbury smirked and added, “A very reliable source told me Callista has fired her guitar player four times. She thinks her bandmates are totally interchangeable and can be easily replaced.”
“That’s not very nice,” Hera said.
Bradbury shrugged. “Showbiz.” The stage door behind them flew open, and cold, smelly Tik-tik air blew in along with a group of production assistants who were loaded down with microphones and extra stools for the final group performance. Bradbury squeezed his nose closed and exhaled through his mouth. “No wonder Geela didn’t show up in person for today’s show. It seriously stinks here!”
“Was she supposed to be here?” Athena asked, glancing quickly at the other girls. They all moved aside to let the production assistants through with their gear. “Any idea why she isn’t?”
“Well,” Bradbury said, whispering. “Technically, she is here—don’t tell anyone she’s not. But in fact, she’s performing her song for tonight’s broadcast in a soundstage on Pluton. They’re projecting her hologram into the group so it will look like she’s here in person. The producers promised no one would be able to figure out that she isn’t actually live with the other girls.”
“Why didn’t she just come and perform with everyone else?” Hera asked. “She has her own ship—and it’s insanely fast. She can get to any planet in the galaxy in less than a few hours.”
“Geela hasn’t set foot on Tik-tik in weeks,” Bradbury said. “This used to be one of her favorite planets, but something happened when her space tankers started flying in and out more often—their fumes mixed with a chemical in the Tik-tik atmosphere and made the whole planet smell like waste.”
“How do you know all this?” Juno muttered.
“I keep my ears open,” Bradbury said. “Journalist habit.”
“So Geela really hasn’t been on Tik-tik in weeks?” Rhea asked. Onstage, the director announced that the commercial break was ending and the singers would be on live in thirty seconds—it was time for the final sing-off and Geela’s guest appearance. Backstage, the four members of SPACEPOP shared a knowing look—if Geela hadn’t set foot on this planet recently, there was no way she could be hiding her most important prisoners here. She herself had said that she enjoyed visiting them in person as often as she could.
“Nope,” Bradbury said. “She’s been all about Pluton lately. Hey!” he said, snapping his fingers. “Did you guys enter the Battle of the Bands on Pluton? I’d love to see SPACEPOP go head-to-head against Arion IV. You would win for sure!”
“Battle of the Bands?” Athena asked.
“The only requirement is that each band needs to perform a previously unheard song. Something new you’ve been working on. It’s going to be epic!” Bradbury said, his voice so loud someone on the production staff shushed him.
Athena nodded and looked to the other girls. “Think we could have our new song ready in time?”
“New song?” Bradbury said, his eyes wide.
“Something special we’ve been working on for a while. It’s getting very close to being ready,” said Athena.
“It is ready,” Hera said. “It’s called ‘By My Side,’ and it’s very special to us.”
“‘By My Side,’” Athena echoed. “That’s perfect, Hera.”
“The Battle of the Bands is on Pluton, you say?” asked Rhea. “In Sector Seven, right?”
Bradbury nodded and began to speak. But before he could get any words out, there was a high-pitched, eight-octave trilling scream—and a moment later, the glass in every single one of the camera lenses on set shattered.
CHAPTER 13
Everyone screamed as stage lights burst and popped, sending colored glass shards everywhere. Bradbury’s video screen eyeglass lenses crackled like ice and sprinkled out onto the floor backstage. The camera bots whizzed around, trying to figure out what action to follow. Onstage, each of the singers ducked for cover. Rand raced out onto the stage and covered Luna’s body with his own, protecting her from whatever unseen danger was lurking nearby.
It was absolute chaos. The studio went black, production came to a standstill, and backup lights were dragged out to the stage. “It’s all right!” someone yelled. “Everyone, calm down.”
But for the residents of the Pentangle, the scene felt too familiar—it brought back horrible memories of the day Geela took the royal families prisoner and attacked the five planets of the Pentangle. The noise. The tension. The fear. Even those who hadn’t witnessed Geela’s takeover live had watched the devastation over and over for days on news feeds.
The five princesses couldn’t keep themselves from freaking out. Was Geela closing in on them? Was this some sort of attack, a ploy to get the five remaining royals? Had someone discovered SPACEPOP’s secret identities and finally come to collect them?
“Someone’s amp malfunctioned!” yelled a director. “Too much feedback. The thing went ballistic and shattered all the glass within a thirty-foot radius. Seriously, folks, calm down. No need to act like divas.” He chuckled.
Things onstage began to settle. Rand stood up, helping Luna to her feet. The other sopranos shook themselves off, glaring around at the other girls on stage. “An amp is to blame? Whose?” demanded Callista. “What happened?”
Luna shrank away, pulling back from the other singers. From offstage, Athena watched her bandmate pick up the tiny Amp It Up and tuck it under her shirt. Then, head held high, Luna pranced offstage and rushed to her dressing room before anyone had time to ask any further questions. The rest of the band chased after her.
“It was me!” Luna said, flopping down on a sofa with a wide-eyed, wild look on her face. “I ruined the show.”
“Not you,” Athena said, her voice harsh. “It was the Amp It Up. I told you not to use that awful thing! Your voice sounds incredible without extra volume and pitch support.”
“I just wanted to stand out from the crowd during the finale,” Luna said, closing her eyes. “I didn’t think turning the thing up to level four would cause any problems. That’s crazy. Who would manufacture a product with such ridiculous side effects? Breaking glass!”
Bradbury squeezed into Luna’s dressing room, bringing an end to the girls’ conversation. “Are you okay?” he wheezed. Because his video glasses had shattered, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and began to take video with that. He aimed it at Luna and said, “Since tonight’s live broadcast went off the air, it’s up to you—Luna!—to tell SPACEPOP fans exactly what happened here today.”
Juno stepped in front of his camera. “How about Luna tells you all about it while we travel to Pluton in Sector Seven for the Battle of the Bands?”
“Pluton?” Luna said, her face brightening. She looked at the other girls, eager to hear what she’d missed while she was performing. “Battle of the Bands?”
“Pluton’s our next stop,” Athena said, nodding. “Come on, Bradbury. We’ll give you a lift.”
* * *
“Oh. My. Grock.” Bradbury put his hand over his mouth. “I’m actually in the SPACEPOP tour bus. This. Is. AWESOME!” Bradbury traipsed around the band’s living room, trying to soak it all in. He was so engrossed in looking at everything that he hadn’t yet taken out his phone to get footage for his vlog. “Where do you all sleep? Rehearse?”
“Back there,” Juno said, pointing to the back of the bus.
“Can I…” Bradbury whispered. “See it?”
“That’s where I draw the line,” Chamberlin said primly. “I insist that the girls keep a few secrets.”
“Speaking of secrets,” Bradbury said, finally getting his phone out. He looked serious. “I still wanted to talk to you all about my big reveal. I don’t want to ruin anything for the band, obviously, but I do have a pretty important piece of information I’ve been sitting on. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep your secret a secret.”
The girls all straightened up, waiting. What did he know?
Bradbury went on, “As a journalist, it’s my job to seek the truth and share it with the world.”
Chamberlin nervously cleared his throat.
“I’ve been backstage with you before a few shows now, and I’ve noticed something … about your image,” Bradbury said, winking at Luna. “Something the galaxy needs to know about the real you.”
“How did you find out?” Luna whispered.
Bradbury tapped the edge of his lens-less glasses. “Journalistic observation. You haven’t been very good at hiding the truth.”
The girls tensed, waiting for him to say what he knew: that they were the princesses of the Pentangle, and he was going to tell the whole galaxy about their cover. This was it—they were ruined. After weeks of searching for the Dungeon of Dark Doom, they had only one last planet to explore. But it was too late. All would be revealed, and Geela would come for them. In no time, they would be joining their parents in the dungeon, and Geela’s galactic takeover would be complete.