There's an Alien in My Backpack
Page 6
“But I will not have time to make coffee for the weary Just McNally,” she warbled fretfully.
McNally doesn’t really like to have the “Mr.” attached to his name. Therefore, whenever he meets someone new, he says, “It’s McNally. Just… McNally.” This has had the side effect of convincing Shhh-foop that the proper way to address him is as “Just McNally.” He seems to find this amusing, and it probably makes up for the fact that the Fatherly One and Ms. Buttsman always call him Mr. McNally.
“Don’t worry about the coffee, Shhh-foop,” said McNally now, working hard to sound regretful. “I’ll manage somehow.”
* * *
We had been back for only a few moments when the speaker above the kitchen door belched for attention and informed me that I was wanted in the office of the Fatherly One.
“Time to meet the Inspection Team,” I said.
“Good luck, champ,” said McNally.
Beezle Whompis and Ms. Buttsman were both waiting outside the Fatherly One’s office.
“Don’t worry, Pleskit,” said Beezle Whompis. “You’ll do fine.”
At the same time, Ms. Buttsman was fussing over me, straightening my collar, brushing dust that only she could see off my sleeve, and generally acting in a way almost guaranteed to make a being worry.
The two of them were like matter and antimatter. Sometimes I wondered if they would explode if they got too close together.
Right now I wondered if either of them was the traitor.
* * *
When I entered the office of the Fatherly One, I saw that the team consisted of three members.
The Fatherly One stood to introduce me. “Gentlebeings,” he said, speaking in Standard Galactic. “I would like you to meet my childling, Pleskit Meenom.”
“Ah, the hero of the galaxy,” said one of the team, a short, stocky being. I was a little embarrassed when they all began to applaud, each in yeeble’s own way—which ranged from slapping hands against knees to a very loud tongue-clucking sound.
The Fatherly One took me to each of them in turn. The first was named Earla
“And this is Sookutan Krimble,” said the Fatherly One, guiding me to the next member of the team. Frek Krimble (“Frek” is the proper term of address for certain important beings from yeeble’s planet) was also tall. Yeeble’s orange skin and scales reminded me of Beebo, but the stylish black robe and the dignified way yeeble carried yeebleself could not have been more different from our cute but mischievous visitor.
The third member of the team was a short, blue being with enormous eyes and a three-pronged nose who was called Paznod Five. “Actually,” she said with a musical laugh, “my full name is Paznod [three-tone whistle] Five. But I only use that for very formal occasions. Let me tell you again, Pleskit, how impressed I am with what you and your friends accomplished on Billa Kindikan. We are in your debt.” She lowered her eyes, then added, “If it were up to me, we would not bother with this inspection at all. It seems ungracious. But the uproar occasioned by the discovery of a Grand Urpelli in your Fatherly One’s territory makes it necessary.”
“I understand,” I said, nodding my head and farting respectfully.
The diplomats began talking to the Fatherly One again. They droned on, and though I was trying to be polite and look interested, I was having a hard time staying awake—until I felt the portable communicator I had given to Tim start vibrating in my pocket.
Without intending to, I leaped to my feet.
“Are you all right, Pleskit?” asked the Fatherly One, scowling slightly.
“I’m fine,” I said quickly, sticking my hand into my pocket to try to cover the device so that no one would see it vibrating. “It’s just that I suddenly remembered something important I need to take care of regarding school.”
“I’m sure the boy has better things to do than listen to us talk,” said Fif! “Why don’t you let him go, Meenom?”
The Fatherly One’s face tightened, and he looked a little suspicious. But he bent his sphen-gnut-ksher in acceptance. “We’ll see you for dinner, Pleskit,” he said. “Formal garb tonight, please.”
“I look forward to it with pleasure,” I said, relieved that my brain was still working well enough to respond with the diplomatically proper words.
I bid each of the visitors good-bye, then hurried to my room.
I was very worried. I knew Tim would not be using the comm-device unless it was an emergency. I feared he had been attacked by Jordan and was calling for help.
When I was finally alone, I pulled the device from my pocket and pushed the connect button.
“Tim. Tim, are you there?”
I was relieved to hear his voice. The relief lasted only an instant—just long enough for me to hear what he was saying.
“Pleskit, we need help. Beebo is sick.”
“How sick?”
“I can’t tell. It looks serious.” Tim paused, then said, “I think he may be dying!”
CHAPTER 15 [PLESKIT]
THE DAYLIGHT RIDE OF EARGON FOOZ
I felt the dim haziness of kleptra stealing over me. It would have been pleasant to succumb to its dark emptiness, to just let go of the world and all its problems. But I could not do that. Beebo’s life might be at stake.
But what should I do?
I had to go get him, that was clear. No Earth doctor would have the slightest idea what to do for him.
Could I do that without alerting the Inspection Team to what was going on?
“Pleskit?” said Tim, sounding worried. “Pleskit, are you still there?”
“Yes, I’m here. I’m just thinking. Where are you?”
“We’re in back of the school, at the door farthest from the parking lot, the one near the art room.”
“All right, don’t move. I’ll figure out some way to come and get you.”
“What about your Fatherly One?” asked Tim, sounding worried.
“I don’t know!” I snapped. “I’ll worry about that next. Don’t go anywhere.”
“Don’t worry,” said Tim, sounding scared. “We won’t.”
“Hurry, Pleskit,” said another, familiar voice.
“Rafaella?” I asked in surprise. “What are you doing there?”
“Never mind that now,” said Tim. “Just get over here!”
“Right. See you soon.”
I clicked off the pocket communicator and closed my eyes to think. I decided the best thing to do was go for McNally.
To my despair, when I went to the kitchen to look for him, Shhh-foop told me he had been called in to meet the Inspection Team.
Now what? Even if I could have gotten Beebo into the embassy without alerting anyone to what was going on, there was no way I could get McNally out of that meeting without causing a scene and creating questions.
And without McNally, how could I get over to the school?
Then it hit me! Eargon Fooz! She was the only adult being in the embassy not tied up with the fuss created by the arrival of the Inspection Team. And it didn’t matter that she couldn’t drive—she could run to the school, maybe even get there faster than the limo would have, since she wouldn’t be stopping for traffic lights and so on.
I raced to her living quarters, which were on one of the upper floors, as she preferred to be somewhat solitary. I burped a command to her door. It took my picture and showed it to her inside, indicating that I was requesting admission.
A second later the door slid open.
She had been decorating her room to look like her home on Billa Kindikan. One wall had a three-dimensional jungle mural. Pictures of her five children were mounted on a pole in the center of the room.
She extended her humanlike arm
s in greeting. “What can I do for you, Pleskit?”
“I have a friend who’s in trouble. Can you take me to him, help me bring him back here?”
I was not surprised when she agreed without even asking any more questions. That’s the kind of being she is.
We took the transport tube down to the garage. Without even trying to explain to the astonished Ralph-the-Driver what was going on, we galloped up the ramp and out through Thorncraft Park. Soon we were pounding our way through the streets of Syracuse, Eargon Fooz’s powerful legs beating out a rhythm on the concrete sidewalks as we headed for the school. It was a quiet weekday afternoon, and most people were still at work. A few pedestrians gawked or cried out or cheered as we went rattling by. Some tried to chase us, but they couldn’t keep up, of course. Fortunately, no one was near when we came galloping into the school’s parking lot—not more than ten minutes after we’d left the embassy.
“They’re around back,” I said to Eargon Fooz, who was barely panting despite her exertions.
We found Tim and Rafaella near the back door of the school. They were kneeling, and Rafaella was cradling something in her arms.
I slid off Eargon Fooz’s back.
“What’s going on?” I asked, rushing over to them.
They didn’t say anything, just pulled back so I could see what they had between them.
Curled in Rafaella’s arms was Beebo. He had his knees clutched to his chest, and his skin had faded from its usual bright orange to a pale yellow.
I reached out to touch him.
He felt cold.
At my touch he twitched slightly, then opened his eyes. “Pleskit?” he asked, reaching one tiny hand toward me. He hadn’t moved it more than a few inches before he gave a tiny cough. His arm fell limp, and he closed his eyes again.
CHAPTER 16 [TIM]
TOUGH DECISION
I was incredibly relieved when Pleskit showed up with Eargon Fooz. I had been terrified that Beebo was going to die before we could get help for him. I was still terrified when they got there, but it felt better to have someone show up who ought to know more about alien biology than Rafaella and I did.
“How did this happen?” asked Pleskit.
I shook my head. “I don’t know. We heard him cough, and when I opened the backpack, we found him like this.”
Big tears welled up in Rafaella’s eyes. “He’s so adorable, it’s just heartbreaking to see him like that. Can you tell what’s the matter with him, Pleskit?”
Pleskit looked really nervous. “It’s hard to say,” he muttered. “Could be anything from not getting enough air in the backpack to having an allergic reaction to the planet.”
Eargon Fooz uttered a weird jumble of sounds.
Pleskit looked distressed as he translated. “She says we have to take him back to the embassy.”
“That could end up costing your Fatherly One the Earth franchise!” I cried.
“And your planet its freedom,” he replied grimly.
I felt sick. What was the cost of freedom? I knew people fought and died for it. But could you buy it with an innocent life?
I looked down at Beebo. What is one person worth? I wondered. It always seemed like a weird question to me. I hear politicians and ministers and talking heads on TV babbling on about how every human life is priceless. They’ll pass some law and say, “This is going to cost a million dollars, but if it saves just one life, it’s worth it.” So does that mean a life is worth a million dollars? And if it’s worth a million dollars to save just one life, then how come we let people starve to death when it would cost only a few hundred to feed them for an entire year?
So, what is a life worth?
A fortune?
A planet?
Are some lives worth more than others?
If so, who gets to choose?
My head was starting to spin.
Then Beebo coughed again.
This was just one life, but it was here in our hands. If we didn’t do something, that life might end. Yet if we did the only thing we could, the consequences might be terrible.
Maybe someone older, smarter, stronger, tougher would have made another choice. But I didn’t have the courage to just sit there and watch Beebo die.
“Eargon Fooz is right,” I said. “We have to get Beebo to the embassy.”
“I agree,” said Pleskit. “Come on, help me get him into the backpack. But make sure to leave the top open so he can breathe! Then Eargon Fooz and I will take him back.” He looked at me. “Did you ride your bike today?”
“Yeah. I’ll follow you over.”
“Me too,” said Rafaella.
Pleskit hesitated, then nodded. “See you there.”
I helped him onto Eargon Fooz’s back, then carefully handed up the backpack with Beebo in it.
As they galloped off, Rafaella and I went to get our bikes. We didn’t talk much as we pedaled over to the embassy. I was busy wondering if Pleskit’s Fatherly One was going to blame this whole mess on me—and if he did, just exactly what a powerful alien ambassador might do to a puny little Earth kid who had just cost him a chance at the greatest fortune in the history of the galaxy.
I didn’t even think about the other part, the part about what might happen if Meenom was removed from the mission and the planet was assigned to some other, less friendly Trader.
I couldn’t.
CHAPTER 17 [PLESKIT]
THE LAST LAUGH
While Eargon Fooz was carrying us back toward the embassy, I was trying desperately to think of whom I should contact once I got Beebo inside.
I was surprised to find McNally waiting for us at the base of the hook that holds up the embassy. He looked angry, but I was so relieved to see him that I didn’t care.
“Where have you been?” he demanded. “Ralph told me you went barreling out of here on Eargon Fooz. You can’t do that, Pleskit! Do you realize—”
I held out the backpack.
McNally looked inside. Instantly his expression changed. “What’s wrong with him?” he whispered.
“I don’t know. We have to get him to the medical room, put him on the Heal-a-tron. The thing is, I don’t know how to use it that well. We may have to get someone else to help us.”
McNally took the backpack from my hands. “Come on, let’s get moving,” he said, cradling it gently in his arms. He shook his head. “Man, Pleskit, if we can’t keep this under wraps—and right now, I’d say the odds are low—it looks like your father can say good-bye to the biggest stack of money in the galaxy.”
“Should we have done something different?” I asked miserably.
McNally didn’t say anything, just sort of growled as he shook his head. “What are we gonna do? We can’t just let the kid die.”
* * *
Once we were inside the embassy—we faced the next question—namely, who else to ask for help. The Fatherly One was locked in conference with the Inspection Team. Of course, we could have interrupted by sounding an emergency, but we were still faintly hoping we could handle this in secret—not just for our sake but for Beebo’s.
The Heal-a-tron is fairly easy to use. Unfortunately, it was only set up for the biology of the beings who were actually in the embassy, and I didn’t know how to recalibrate it for another species.
“Beezle Whompis is probably our best bet,” said McNally. “He’s the most apt to be willing to wink at something a little out of line.”
But the Fatherly One’s secretary had been called into the private conference and was not available.
“Maybe we should call Wakkam Akkim,” I said. “She can advise us.”
To my relief, the wakkam was in her room and hurried to join us as soon as we had contacted her. She took one look at Beebo and, without even asking where he had come from, said, “Who is best at calibrating the Heal-a-tron?”
“The Fatherly One,” I replied.
“Then we shall have to call him immediately. I will fetch him myself. I may be able to do it witho
ut alerting the Inspection Team to the fact that we have a… situation.”
She hurried from the room.
While we were waiting for Wakkam Akkim to return with the Fatherly One, I got a call from the guard shack that Tim and Rafaella had arrived. I told the guard to let them in, and in only a few minutes they joined us in the med room.
We stood around the healing table looking at Beebo’s pale form. Rarely have I felt so helpless. His body twitched occasionally but otherwise did not move. He barely seemed to be breathing.
Rafaella stood close to Tim, her shoulder almost touching his. She didn’t speak, but occasionally reached out as if she wanted to touch Beebo.
I felt the coldness of pizumpta creeping over me. What would the Fatherly One say about the trouble I had brought into our home?
What would he say if I cost him the biggest fortune in the galaxy?
And what would it truly mean to the people of Earth if the Fatherly One was removed from his position?
I actually considered hiding behind the door when Wakkam Akkim returned with the Fatherly One.
I don’t know what I expected him to do. He didn’t scream and yell or anything. He just looked sick.
“What has been going on here?” he asked.
Tim came to stand beside me. I appreciated that. I knew he was stepping forward to take his share of the blame.
“Tim and I have been sheltering this being,” I said miserably. “He is from a non-Federation planet. I know he does not belong here, but we did not want to turn him in to the Federation because he really hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“Do you realize what this could cost us?” asked the Fatherly One. “Especially now with the Inspection Team here?”
His voice was low and cold, as if he could barely get the words out of his mouth.
Tim and I both nodded miserably.
The Fatherly One looked down at Beebo’s tiny body lying on the healing table. He closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. “All right,” he said softly. “I’ll deal with you two later. Our first concern must be for the child. Let’s see if we can get this thing to work.”