Lily shut her eyes as neon green light sliced through the air, pounded her in the chest, and nearly knocked her off her feet. Her stomach did a somersault inside her, her teeth froze, and every nerve in her body sang out in a minor key.
When she finally dared to open her eyes, the Morgonites were all staring at her, confused. Across the terrace, where the Mean-Man had been standing, there was a column of smoke.
Lily looked down at where the beam had hit her. In the middle of her mirror sash, there was a sizzling black spot. She tilted the sash to get a look at her reflection, afraid she would see a long, gray, scowling face. But there, instead, was her own round little face, looking back at her.
“Where’s the Mean-Man?” whispered Kosmo.
Through the smoke, Lily could barely see the outline of a small figure, standing next to Miss Meniscus.
“And who’s that little red fella?” asked Kosmo.
The smoke cleared, and Lily saw a boy, maybe a little younger than her, with a blood-red face, and wearing His Meanness’s gray uniform. It was way too big for him, so that it rippled around his wrists and ankles. His eyes sparkled on the verge of tears.
“I think that little red fella is the Mean-Man!” whispered Lily.
“Eh? How’s that work?”
“The mirror must’ve backwardized the beam, and turned the De-juvenator™ into a Re-juvenator!”
Lying on the red boy’s oversize shoes, there was something black and spindly, twitching like a dying insect: the mustache of the Mean-Man of Morgo. He picked it up, held it to his upper lip . . . But when he let go, it fluttered back to the floor. He tried again. Again it fluttered to the floor.
His chin went dimply. He wrapped his tiny arms around Miss Meniscus’s legs, buried his face in her jodhpurs, and sobbed.
“Er . . . Sire?” she sneered, and raised her gloved hand, ready to swat the child away, before he contaminated her with his juvenile face fluids. Instead, she found her hand patting his little back. “There, there, little vermin,” she said, and before she knew what she was doing, she had scooped the weeping, Rejuvenated Mean-Man off his feet, leaving Alfie, in his net, on the floor.
Lily and Kosmo tiptoed across the terrace, between two rows of bewildered Morgonites, standing still as statues. Alfie’s piggish eyes smiled at Lily. She slipped the net off him, scooped him up, and hugged him, harder than she ever had. Then she took his hand, and she, Kosmo, and Alfie tiptoed back toward the elevator.
“Halt!” called Miss Meniscus, cradling His Formerly Meanness against her hip. He whispered in her ear, and she carried the boy toward Lily and Kosmo.
“Stay sharp!” Kosmo whispered. “Him being small doesn’t make him friendly!”
“His Meanness has something he’d like to say,” said Miss Meniscus. The boy hid his face in her armpit. “Now, now! Who’s a shy boy! Let’s just get it over with, shall we?”
His Formerly Meanness wiped his eyes. “Sorry,” he said.
Lily waited a moment.
“Is that it?”
“I’m sorry, deeply sorry, for trying to Dejuvenate™ you.”
“Twice,” Lily reminded him.
“Twice. Of course. And I’m sorry for calling you names, like vermin, and brat. And I’m very, very sorry for trying to take over Outer Outer Space, and turn it into my own tot-free empire.”
“You promise not to do anymore Dejuvenating™?” asked Lily.
The boy nodded.
“And you promise to Rejuvenate all your Morgonites back to their kid selves?”
He nodded.
“And try not to be so mean all the time!”
“I promise.”
“Cross your eyes, stub your toes, stick a spindle up your nose?”
“Cross my eyes, stub my toes, stick a spindle up my nose,” swore His Formerly Meanness. Lily caught Miss Meniscus rolling her eyes at this sacred oath, then quickly pretending she had something in her eye.
Lily turned to Kosmo. “Satisfied?”
“Oh, nearly, nearly,” he answered coldly.
“What do you mean, ‘nearly’?”
“Well, there is one thing needling me,” said Kosmo.
“Oh, rats.” Lily guessed where this was headed.
“Aye, one wee little wrong, begging to be righted, hmmm?” And when he hmmmed, his voice went high like a slide whistle. Lily saw something wispy and black on the floor next to Kosmo’s foot. . . .
“Name it,” said His Formerly Meanness.
“Well,” Kosmo purred, “I know one little lad who’s about due for . . .” A wicked grin spread across his face, and there was venom in his voice. “. . . a spanking.” Lily alone saw the Mean-Man’s mustache tickling its way up Kosmo’s ankle. “Fair’s fair! Now come on down, lad, and get what’s coming to you.” There was fire in Kosmo’s eyes as he rubbed his hands together.
“You little beast!” yelled Miss Meniscus. The red boy whimpered, and buried his face in her neck. “You dare to threaten—”
“No!” shouted Lily, and stomped the mustache under her bare foot. It gave a tiny screech, a last desperate twitch, then fell limply onto the floor. “He was just kidding.” She turned to Kosmo. “Weren’t you?”
Kosmo’s head went woozy, swaying, as the wickedness drained out of his eyes. “Aye, Your Redness. Just pulling your leg. No hard feelings!”
Lily picked up the mustache between her thumb and forefinger. “Can I have this?”
His Formerly Meanness winced. “Please! Those hateful hairs have brought me nothing but woe!” He whispered to Miss Meniscus, and she set him down. He took off his oversize gauntlet, and stuck out a red hand for Kosmo to shake. Kosmo stared at it.
“Go on!” whispered Lily, giving him a nudge. Kosmo took off his glove, but he did not shake the boy’s hand. What he did do was perform the top-secret, Spacetronaut’s-only, three-part Spacetronaut Salute.
His Formerly Meanness stared, pondering the gesture.
Finally, before the eyes of his Morgonites, and with a pinwheel of fire in the sky behind him, His Formerly Meanness performed the Spacetronaut Salute, getting it just right on his first try, even the ending with the finger blasting skyward like a rocket, while mouthing the fffwoosh of the engine.
As the Black-Eyed Morgonite watched Lily, Kosmo, and Alfie walk back across the terrace, he felt the corners of his mouth being pulled up and to the sides, as if by invisible hooks. . . .
CHAPTER 28
Return to Fort Spacetronaut
Davy woke up to the sound of creeping feet creaking across the floor toward the High Command Chair. Then came the familiar squeak of someone climbing up its rusty railing. He opened his eyes and sat up. . . .
Kosmo’s chair wasn’t empty anymore! There was a boy sitting in it, kicking his dangling feet. Davy’s heart fluttered. He rubbed his eyes. Could it really be . . . ?
No. It was Pando.
Davy sprang to his feet. “What in star-nation do you reckon yer doin’?” he shouted. “That chair is the ’sclusive property of Kosmo Kidd!” In seconds, his shouting had all the Spacetronauts in the fort sitting up, yawning, stretching, and scratching.
“Kosmo Kidd has gone adios, vaquero,” answered Pando. “Esta bailando con las estrellas. I see no reason why this very comfy chair should remain desocupado.”
“And how do you figger you’re worthy to occupy the High Command Chair?”
“Why, the reason is plain, no?” said Pando, proudly massaging his painted-on mustache.
“Hogwash! That moo-stachio ain’t even for real!”
“Oh, but it is! I have very mature follicles for a boy my age.”
“Are you gonna climb outta that chair, or do I hafta take ya by the ankle, and yank ya down m’self?” Davy marched to the foot of the chair. The other Spacetronauts followed him, hooting and whistling.
“Ha!” scoffed Pando. “I would enjoy to see you try, hayseed!”
“Hayseed?” gasped Davy, spitting in his palms. “Why, you duded-up Don Juanito!”
At
that, Pando hopped down from the chair, and the two began to circle each other, with fists raised.
“Lads!” said Gernsback, inserting himself between them. “There is no call! For hostility! Let us sit down. And discuss this.”
“Outta the way, Gernsy!” Davy shoved the gadgetician aside. “I’m fixin’ to serve up that swarthy Spaniard a fistful o’ humility!”
“I am game, hijo de cabra!” sneered Pando.
Davy and Pando had nearly come to blows, when Gernsback’s eyes rolled madly in their sockets and he shouted, “Shame! Shame!”
Davy and Pando separated.
“And you call yourselves. Spacetronauts,” said Gernsback. “Space chimps, more like! Sirs. You dishonor. Those stars. Upon your tummies. With your brawling. And bigotry. Shame!” He shook his head. “Shame.”
“Gernsy,” said Davy, lowering his fists. “I reckon you couldn’t be righter if your name was Left and you was lookin’ in a mirror.” He wiped his hand on his onesie, and extended it to Pando. “Señor, please accept my apology.”
“Likewise, vaquero.” Pando took the frontiersman in a hearty hug. “No one wrangles the stars like Davy C. Rocket.” He held his toque to his breast, and gazed upon the empty High Command Chair. “I suppose I simply could not bear to see it empty.”
“By my stars, fellers,” Davy said. “I got a gut fulla guilt, and it’s burnin’ me up inside! Why, I’d singe my fringe just to have my best friend home again.” He held his coonskin cap to his breast.
Gernsback held his ball cap to his breast, and all the Spacetronauts joined in a moment of silence, looking at the empty chair. They were seconds from breaking Spacetronaut Rule Number Six—NO BLUBBERIN’—when they heard a deep rumble tearing through the forest outside, snapping branches as it drew nearer.
“Hit the deck!” cried a Spacetronaut in lizard-skin breeches, as a huge rectangular block of cement smashed through the wall, shaking Fort Spacetronaut from root to twig. It had a glowing, domed windshield, and a fin on its back. Its engine faded to a low hum.
“A Morgo. Star Skiff,” observed Gernsback. “Or I’m. A Monkey. Zuncle.”
A door in the side hissed open, and out stepped a boy-shaped shadow, coughing, waving away the dust that danced like fireflies in the windshield’s light.
“Fellers!” whispered Davy. “Either it’s time I start believin’ in spirits, or that there’s Kosmo Kidd, in the flesh.”
Gernsback closed one eye, and with the other, scanned the silhouette. “Life Functions . . .”—DING!—“Positive!” The Spacetronauts crowded in and embraced Kosmo.
“Koz!” yelled Davy. “We figgered you were off kickin’ the bucket!”
“Joining! The choir invisible!” added Gernsback.
“¡Criando malvas!” added Pando.
“Did I not say you ain’t seen the last o’ me?” said Kosmo.
“You surely did,” answered Davy. “And we never shoulda figgered otherly-wise. And let me be the first to tell ya how sorely tore up we all was at havin’ zapped you away. It was most foolish and unspacemanly.”
“All in the rear view, lads,” answered Kosmo.
“I mean, what good’s a rule pits brother ’gainst brother, anyhow?”
“Hear, hear!” said many.
“Well, it’s good you say that, lads,” said Kosmo. “ ’Cause you’ll never guess who I brung back—”
The Spacetronauts cheered and whistled at the sight (but not the smell) of Alfie, toddling out of the ship. (None of them let on that, until that moment, they hadn’t noticed the toddler was missing.)
“Aye,” said Kosmo. “Our own dear Agent Argos, back once again from the brink of doom. But also . . .” He cupped his hand and shouted, “It’s all right, come on out!”
Another silhouette peered out of the skiff. For a better look, Davy waved away the dust with his cap. . . .
“Botheration!” he cursed. “Not again.”
CHAPTER 29
Foregone Whiskers
“Fellers, flank that filly!” said Davy, and the Spacetronauts surrounded Lily. “Koz, looks like this here vix-een musta stowed away on you.”
“I did not!” Lily shouted.
“¡Silencio!” hissed Pando. “You will not poison us with your lies.”
“It’s no lie! Tell ’em, Kosmo,” said Lily.
“Yeah, Koz, tell us!” Davy put an arm around Kosmo, and said, confidentially, “Now, Koz, I know you done learned yer lesson by now.”
“That I have, Davy. That I have.”
“Darn tootin’! Then all you need say is that this here she-spy got the jump on ya, and we’ll give ’er the ol’ one-boot salute, and be back to business as regular!”
“Aye, lads!” said Kosmo, loud enough for all to hear. “I’ve learned me a thing or two, such as: Maybe females ain’t so unfit for space after all.”
“Oh yeah, Koz?” pressed Davy. “How ya figger?”
“Oy, Lupino, show the lads how I figger,” said Kosmo.
Lily held her souvenir high for all the fort to see. Every Spacetronaut in the fort gasped to see those legendary whiskers.
“¡Madre de Fuego,” whispered Pando, “el bigote!”
“As I rope and ride,” uttered Davy, “the lady done nabbed it!”
“Aye, from under His Meanness’s very nose,” said Kosmo, “and right-bravely, eh, Lupino?”
“Right-bravely,” agreed Lily.
Held high, the mustache began to move. First it was a gentle quiver, then an angry thrashing. Lily saw the lights in Fort Spacetronaut dim, and the Spacetronauts shrinking at her feet. Their eyes were wide with admiration. Or was it fear? Whatever it was, it felt good! No one could ever tell Lily Lupino she could or couldn’t be this or that, because she wasn’t this or that. No one would dare to mess with her molly-cules ever again. She’d like to see them try, the little vermin! Fort Spacetronaut and its puny inhabitants became a faraway blur, as the mustache pulled itself like a magnet toward her face, groping for her upper lip. . . .
“I know a better spot for them whiskers, mate.”
The whisper found her ear, and Kosmo came into focus, handing her a hammer and nail. Lily shook her woozy head, and Fort Spacetronaut and all its Spacetronauts reappeared.
She and Kosmo marched over to the Mishun Controll Centr. Lily climbed onto Kosmo’s shoulders, held up the mustache, and hammered the nail through it dead center. Then she drew a chalk line through the words NAB THE MENEMANS MOSTASH FRUMUNDR HIS VAIRY NOS.
“Mission o’complished!” Kosmo shouted. The Spacetronauts echoed the cry.
“Well, uh, ma’am,” said Davy, taking off his cap, “I figger any gal who’s man enough to face the Menace of the Murky Way is man enough to wear the star o’ the Spacetronauts. Fellers, are we agreed on that?”
There was a chorus of yeses.
“Indeed!” answered Gernsback. “Amending bylaws . . . Stand by . . .” His eyes rolled back as his brain processed the command. “From now on. The Spacetronauts are. A co-ed. Operation.” The Spacetronauts cheered for their newest recruit, except for Pando, who was staring at the floor.
“Say, cookie,” said Davy, patting the troubled chef’s shoulder. “What gives?”
“Lads, lady,” began Pando, “there is a lie in my heart, and I must be free of it. This mustachio of mine, which you have all so admired”—he licked his hand, wiped it across his upper lip, and held his blackened palm up for all to see—“is a sham! A ruse!” He hung his head in shame.
The Spacetronauts all did him the favor of pretending to be shocked.
“But Lily,” Pando continued, “you have taught me that it is not the whiskers on your lip that make you strong, but the whiskers in your heart. Bienvenidos a los Spacetronauts, amigo.”
“Ami-ga,” Lily corrected.
“Claro,” Pando agreed.
“Right, lads!” Kosmo shouted, climbing into the High Command Chair. “Back to work!”
CHAPTER 30
The Next Daring Missio
n
Gernsback brought forth the Mission Control can. Davy gave it a crank. It spat out a card, and Pando caught it. He struggled to read it, but gave up and handed it to Lily, who read: DELIVVER AJENT ARGOS BAK TO PLANNIT URTH. Out loud, she sounded it out:
“Deliver Agent Argos Back to Planet Earth.”
“Huh? Hang on a tick!” said Davy, grabbing the card from her. “How’d this ’un get in thar?” He looked from Spacetronaut to Spacetronaut. “Did you put this in thar? Or you?” But all he got were shaking heads. “Well, somebody done wrote it!”
Ahem!
Some deep-voiced fellow had cleared his throat. But who? The Spacetronauts turned to the balcony. There, standing on an apple crate, was Agent Argos.
“Dear friends,” he said, in a low, smooth voice that belonged on the radio. “It was I who wrote that mission, I who slipped it into the Mission Control Cannister.”
“But Argos! How come?” asked Davy.
“Yeah, old man, how come?” asked Kosmo.
“Lads, Comrades, Spacetronauts,” said Argos, pacing the balcony. “Though the road of a spaceman is fraught with trials, it is as rich a calling as a man could hope to find. I speak not of a wealth measured in whiskers and lizard tails—oh no!—but in the bonds of a sacred brotherhood, forged in the eternal flame of cosmic struggle.”
Lily’s jaw dropped, hearing these grand words coming from the two-year-old’s mouth. But she was the only one; the rest of the Spacetronauts were listening, with sadness in their eyes.
“Now,” Argos continued, “I turn my gaze toward the beckoning sunset of retirement, bolstered by the knowledge that Lily Lupino, my savior and successor, will bring great honor to the continuing legacy of . . . the Spacetronauts!”
“But Argos!” Kosmo protested. “They’re bleeding savages, Earth Men. You’ll be locked up again, like an animal behind bars!”
“Savages?” answered Argos. “Perhaps. But their sheets are soft, and they know how to change a diaper.” He turned to his one-legged velveteen pig. “Well, Colonel? Shall we stroll those greener pastures together?”
Lily & Kosmo in Outer Outer Space Page 9