The Nerdy Dozen #2 (10 page)

“COMMANDER TREVOR HAS DECLARED THAT YOU SHALL
remain with the crew, but serving at the lowest possible rank,” said Biggs as he escorted Neil from his chair in the front, following an order from the person now in charge.

“Cabin boy,” Trevor said. “And it's Captain Trevor. Actually, Space-Pirate Captain Trevor Grunsten.”

“Are you kidding?” Neil replied.

“Every great pirate captain always needed a good cabin boy,” Trevor reassured.

“Have you been watching too much History Channel?” Neil said. “Pirates? Cabin boys? This is ridiculous.”

“Silence, cabin boy! Down with Boris you go!” Trevor barked, craning his neck toward Neil. “We've got to complete our mission and get back to Finch.”

“I'm not going down with that mean monkey. Did you see that scar on his face? I feel like he's seriously maimed a zookeeper, if not worse,” Neil said defiantly.

“Go downstairs. Or else,” said Trevor. His voice had a relaxed evilness to it, and it made Neil actually feel uncomfortable. Trevor turned back to JP. “I wish we still lived in a world where swordplay was encouraged.”

“But it is! In the magical land of the Faire!” Riley exclaimed. “You must come for a visit, and you can joust with Sir Keith the Brave! Or just eat roast turkey legs, carefully prepared by Sir Randy the Line Cook!”

Trevor's face crinkled in disgust as he took firm hold of the ship's controls.

Neil tried to float away angrily, but he wasn't exactly sure how to go about doing so. He ended up looking like a wobbling ballerina before he reached the rear of the ship's cabin. He looked down to see the hatch leading downstairs to the ship's middeck and hesitated while grabbing the handle. It was like the boiler room of the ship, and Boris's quarters. Neil's watch read 17:45. It was still Saturday evening.

“Well, we can at least get out of this space junk so nothing hits us,” the new commander said. “I never realized how much crud was just flying around out here.”

Trevor placed his hands on the ship's exterior thruster controls and steered clear of immediate danger, but he seemed hesitant to floor it. Their Whiptail could do things previously thought impossible, but right now it was simply puttering through the vacuum of the universe.

“We need a shield or armor or something,” Trevor said, “while we try to figure out wherever the heck that ship just went.”

“Lord Trevor, if it is a shield you need, I can fashion one for you,” said Riley. “Just find for me a turtle shell, and as many leather pieces as you can spare.”

“Where are you from? Can we send you back?” Trevor hissed at Riley. “JP, I'm not sure if this chimpanzee ship is made for rough use. We need to get out of this debris. And, cabin boy, I said downstairs!”

Neil had been lingering at the door leading to the middeck, not ready to join a surly Russian chimpanzee. But as he pulled open the floor's hatch, rhythmic beeps bounced through the shuttle's cockpit. It was the radar, coming back to life as the crew sat in uncertain silence.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” shouted Waffles. “We've found our stolen ship, so follow that beeping! Chop-chop!”

But now-Commander Trevor hesitated. He wriggled in his seat, and the short strands of his hair stood on end and waved like tall grass.

“Without any contact with our CAPCOM, or anyone really, I think it's best to head back to base,” Sam said. “What else didn't Finch tell us? Doesn't this whole mission seem ridiculous to anyone else? Is the sun about to explode, too?”

“Well, if that's the case, we need to stick around,” said Biggs. “My grandma told me the sun was made of smiles and gumdrops. That thing's gonna burst like a piñata full of happiness.”

“No, seriously!” Sam said, her voice impatient. “What if they can't reach us to say we don't have enough oxygen? Or worse?”

Neil's eyes narrowed. She had a very real point.

“Sam's right,” Neil said. “Something's feeling unusual.”

“Oh, unusual, you say? And now we'll take orders from the
cabin boy
?” Trevor said, making a weird snorting noise.

“Again, that's not even a real position!” Neil said, but he could sense arguing was worthless.

“JP, get me the coordinates of that bogey. This mission's only just begun,” Trevor ordered.

“This is what you get when you put boys in charge,” Sam grumbled.

Controlling gas puffs from the ship's exterior control jets, Trevor steered the shuttle away from the giant rolling sphere of Earth. Neil grabbed tightly to Waffles's seat.

As Trevor steered the ship, the moon slowly entered into view in the cockpit's window, half-covered in shadows. The beeping of the radar grew louder, signaling that the stolen ship was somewhere near the orbiting chunk of space rock.

“Anyone getting a visual on the
Newt
?” asked Trevor, easing on the ship's jets.

The nose of the ship coasted toward the moon.

Neil could see huge craters dotting its surface. Some were tiny, but others looked the size of shopping malls.

“Our target's location is just into the far side of the moon . . . ,” JP said, his eyes scanning the sleek screens ahead of him. “The hemisphere that's always covered in shadows.”

“And is it safe to venture into these shadows?” asked Riley.

“We'll see. It looks like the Whiptail has landed on the moon,” JP answered.

Trevor guided the shuttle toward the moon's surface, its shadow cast over unending craters. It stopped just before entering darkness.

With barely any sun, Neil saw just how endlessly dark the universe was. This whole outer-space thing was beginning to feel like being stuck in a pitch-black forest without a flashlight or gaming device. There seemed to be way fewer s'mores in the cosmos, though.

“
Booooop
,” hummed the radar. The manic beeps were now a constant tone. Whatever they were after was right below them.

“Beginning landing maneuvers,” announced Trevor, who skillfully propelled the shuttle downward. The ship's landing gears unfolded and made contact with the surface as exterior jets sprayed dust and rocks in all directions.

“Um, not seeing a ship, boss,” said Dale, nearly stretching out of his seat to get a better view. He was right. Whatever was giving the radar fits was supposedly dead ahead, but twelve sets of eyes only saw craggy landscape.

“We should get out and search,” said Harris. “Could be behind us, or in one of these craters. They're probably trying to hide again.”

“I was just going to suggest that,” said Trevor, most likely lying. “We'll cover more ground if we fan out.”

Should we really leave our ship?

Neil's impulse was to say something, but he thought better of it. Trevor would probably lock him in a cabin boy cell while the crew went exploring, so he was the first to open the rear door leading to the yellow air lock.

The crew bounced out of their seats, smashing against computers lining the cramped ship's walls. They weren't totally weightless, but Neil felt like he weighed as much as a bowling ball. One of those really light ones you could chuck overhanded.

“Everybody suit up,” said Trevor, who was crawling into one of the white space suits attached to the walls of the air lock. “Cabin boys last.”

Neil rolled his eyes and looked at the space-walking outfits. They were in two pieces, connected with a sturdy metal ring at the center. Each suit had a white backpack full of oxygen and various other life-supporting instruments.

“Ow!” yelled Corinne as Riley jabbed her eye with his glove. The close quarters made for a very interactive costume change.

Securing his suit with two clicks, Neil changed. Even Harris had his suit on, and he was checking his oxygen levels on a small monitor on the left sleeve. Neil did the same, and Waffles pulled open the door leading to cabin.

“We're leaving for a little bit, but we'll be back, Boris!” yelled Dale through his helmet, as if he were leaving a dog at home on a school day. A chimpanzee shriek carried into the air lock, but everybody agreed it sounded like the good kind of ape yell. The twin brothers pulled the cabin door shut tightly.

“Okay, everybody, everyone have three green lights on their suit monitor?” asked Sam, making sure each suit was working perfectly. The group confirmed as Neil looked at the bulky suit covering his left forearm.

“I do. How do you guys know all this stuff?” Neil said.

“It's in Shuttle Fury,” she replied. “It's amazing what you can learn when you do the work you're supposed to do.”

With that, Sam carefully opened the shuttle's side exit door. One by one they stepped outside. Neil was last, and he hopped out with a smile. His big white boots landed, leaving a pair of size-nine footprints.

IN ALMOST PITCH-DARKNESS, THE GROUP FANNED OUT,
leaping in huge strides as if they were dangling from bungee cords. Everyone clicked on the flashlights built into their rectangular backpacks.

“Race to that thing!” shouted Waffles, pointing to a huge triangular rock that slimmed down to a rounded point.

Neil did his best to sprint in a suit that felt like oversize hockey gear, and he leaped with both legs forward. “Ow,” Neil said as his feet hit something and knocked him on his back. He righted himself, like a lunar turtle.

It felt like he'd kicked a boulder, but when he looked down, he couldn't see anything besides small moon rocks. He put his arm forward, and it made contact, too. Neil flattened his palms and pushed against the invisible force. It was like a wall that curved upward, and Neil couldn't tell where it ended.

“Hey . . . guys?”

Neil pushed forward, hard. Whatever it was didn't budge, and it continued well beyond what Neil could reach.

“You know something? This feels like . . . ,” Neil murmured.

“What?” Harris asked, bounding over to Neil.

“Like that bubble you made with the Chameleon scales from your island. But this is different. You can't pass through this.”

Harris reached out a hand and felt as well, nodding in agreement.

“Yeah. It must be an actual structure,” Harris said. “I was just broadcasting a projection.”

They kept their hands on the object's side and walked in separate directions, covering more ground to feel for the edge of the building.

“Wait, got something here!” Neil yelled. He patted his hands ahead of him, and he could feel the outline of something.

“It's a door!”

Neil found and grasped its handle as Harris waddled over, followed by Sam and Biggs.

Okay, there's probably not some type of bear waiting for me on the other side of this door, right?

“So what are you gonna do?” asked Biggs, his curly hair a mess inside his helmet.

“What do you think he's gonna do? He's gonna open it, Granola Gary,” said Harris. Neil laughed, but he felt a little bad.

He tugged at the oblong handle, and a door opened up to a completely visible air lock similar to the one in their spaceship. The outside of the door and structure were, in fact, cloaked by some kind of invisibility technology.

“Hey, dudes! We've got a door situation over here. Come check it out!” Biggs radioed to his fellow astronauts. He waved the rest of his team in, and they piled inside the cramped air lock that sort of felt like a janitor's closet. Jason 2 was the last inside and pulled the outer door shut, twisting a giant metal door handle. The interior was lit by small LED bulbs.

“So what do we do once we open this?” Sam asked.

“Well, if this is an alien, I want everyone to know they can't read your mind if you're thinking about volcanoes,” said Biggs. “I've been doing some research.”

“Seriously, though. I bet whoever stole the ship is hiding out in here,” Sam said. “What's our plan?”

“Did we have a plan last time? I say we just tackle anything we see,” said Waffles, getting a little jacked up.

Neil nodded, and he and Sam both pushed the heavy interior door open.

Each astronaut twisted into a defensive stance, ready for whatever was lurking beyond a rusty-looking door. But as Neil and Sam pushed it wide open, they were greeted by quite the opposite—what could only be described as a lush space paradise. The door was near a patch of stubby palm trees, but just beyond them was beautifully green grass.

In the exact center was a vibrant garden with exotic flowers and vegetables somehow thriving. It was surrounded by maybe twenty buildings in total, equally spaced in a circle within the biodome. It looked like a village. All the structures were off-white and dome shaped, looking like two-story yurts Neil had seen in a Canadian wilderness documentary.

“Good find, cabin boy,” said Trevor, plucking a ripe green pepper from a stalk.

“Yeah, nicely done,
Neil,
” said Biggs. It was relieving to hear at least somebody actually call him by a real name.

The secret building was a dome made of thick glass, kind of like a cosmic greenhouse. The atmosphere inside seemed very alive and welcoming, especially compared to the desolation outside.

“While I can't be certain, it does appear that the environment inside this bubble can sustain human life,” said JP. “We might be able to take off these helmets to conserve our oxygen.”

Neil felt weird at the mere thought of detaching the helmet sustaining his existence, like removing a life jacket in the middle of the ocean.

What if this glass dome has a leak in it? Is it safe to take this thing off?

“Space corn!” said Riley, his helmet already off as he ripped an ear of corn from a sturdy stalk.

“Riley, you have to boil—” Biggs warned, but it was too late. Riley chomped into the pale uncooked kernels, his teeth barely sinking in.

“Sweet Odysseus!” he yelped, tenderly clutching his mouth.

“Well, at least we know it's safe to take off these helmets,” Jason 1 said. “Thanks for being the guinea pig on that one.”

“Nary a problem.”

After watching Riley and Jason 1 continue to breathe normally, Neil unhooked his helmet from his space suit. It made a sound like opening a soda can, followed by a heavy click. Neil took a deep breath of the filtered biodome air. It was safe and crisp, and it smelled like freshly cut grass. He jumped up and down a few times, enjoying the reduced gravity found on the moon's surface.

“What's a nudist colony?” asked Corinne.

“What? Is that what this place is?” Neil said, shocked. “Then we've gotta get out of here. Stat.”

“No,” Corinne corrected. “The New Dist. It's printed all over everything in here.” Neil looked at a watering can near a patch of space tomatoes, and he saw the block lettering with the same title stamped onto the side.

“No clue, must be whatever this place is,” Neil said. He walked up to a door marked
POD 12
. He raised his hand to knock, but stopped after hearing something just on the other side.

Why was this showing up on our radar? Is this where our stolen Whiptail is?

“What are you waiting for, an invitation?” said Trevor as he barged in front of Neil, flinging the door open.

But inside the building wasn't an elaborate scientist's workshop, or a top secret laser telescope. Inside looked like a regular house, with simply a couch, a television, and a pale boy in red sweatpants. Sprawled out on the sofa, he was playing a game on a high-definition TV.

As the choppy graphics and bright stars whizzed by, it was unmistakably the one game that would now haunt Neil's dreams forever—Shuttle Fury.