Space Patrol!

By Sarah Nicole Nadler

Five human children, a meerkat from outer space and an alien octopus--
Against evil tyrants, a thieving elf, Egyptian werewolves and the most powerful corporation in the galaxy.

What's a girl to do?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tablo Publishing
• Release date: Jan 12, 2018
• ISBN: 9781925880175

Book preview

Pirate Ship

Lissa Phelps awoke with the sun coming in through a crack between her curtains. It splayed across her white sheets in a glow of warmth and welcoming, but she wrinkled her nose and tried to sink back into blank oblivion. Just as the present deleted from her mind and she felt a dream touching the corners of her consciousness, Stephanie’s alarm went off.

With a wailing complaint at this injustice, Lissa sat up in bed and looked imploringly at her dorm mate’s unmoving figure across the room.

Steph, shut it off, she begged, rubbing sleep from her eyes while she suppressed an agonized yawn.

Stephanie Wu, her Taiwanese dorm mate and best friend (damn her) silenced the alarm with a flailing gesture at the large black snooze button, rolled over and fell back to sleep.

Typical, Lissa muttered. She extracted herself with difficulty from her twisted sheets and started her morning routine.

Lissa, Stephanie, and two hundred forty-six other adolescents comprised the student body of St. Lucia’s Academy for Preparatory Students—a posh, two-story boarding school tucked into the Swiss Alps, …where no boyfriends can find us. At least, that was Stephanie’s immovable estimation. After six weeks of attendance and her own assessment of the resident male population, Lissa could only agree.

She watched now as Stephanie hauled herself from bed and pulled a t-shirt over her small curves. As her eyes were still mostly closed she stumbled over a pair of sneakers in the middle of the floor. Lissa watched her hunt through the mess of clothing and shoes scattered everywhere. She winced as Stephanie tossed a discarded pair of shorts from the day before onto a pile of fresh but unfolded laundry in the corner.

Your jeans are on the chair by the desk, Lissa pointed out helpfully, and your left sandal is on the window ledge. Stephanie already held the right one in her hand. She grunted ungraciously and found the sandal, tossed both onto her unmade bed and slipped into her jeans.

Stephanie was quite Lissa’s physical opposite—curvy where she was slim, and tended to leave articles of clothing and makeup scattered everywhere. It was Stephanie, with her sleek jet black hair and almond eyes, who was popular with the boys. Lissa was a slender girl, the taller of the two, with inquisitive green eyes and a soft face that smiled easily. Despite their differences, the two girls were inseparable.

Nearly an hour later, Lissa and Stephanie sat beside each other at matching ugly gray school desks, both with their attention split between trying to catch some sense of Mr. Zuch’s class on economical methodologies, and dreaming about what they would do when the bell released them.

Lissa’s mind was bent in all directions by the sort of distraction only a school set in the Swiss Alps can afford. She loved to hike and was a born rock climber, and sitting in first period listening to Mr. Zuch go on about economics was not at all how she would want to spend an autumn afternoon. Her mind drifted as she stared at the scene overlooking the mountains outside a nearby window.

"A service is a commodity as it results in an increase of useable goods, Mr. Zuch declaimed, Who can give me an example of that?"

It was a day Mr. Zuch always referred to in later years as the moment he taught Lissa the definitions with which she effected economic change across the galaxy. But in actual fact, Lissa was far too distracted to note his speech about the economic strangulation of Eastern and African culture by Western banking before the advent of the international merger into World Government.

In fact, she was so intent on memorizing the line the mountains made across the sky that the bell rang without her noticing. Stephanie had to tug on her shoulder to get her moving toward the door. Hurriedly, Lissa gathered up her notes and exited after her friend into the hallway and out to the terrace.

"For the love of shoes, what was he going on about?" Stephanie groaned, stretching her neck as she dug in her purse. At last she pulled a round token from within and tapped it against the soda machine. The price flashed.

Yeah, yeah—I accept!

The machine gave her a cheerful acknowledgement and a can dropped into her waiting hand.

"That machine is so slow," She muttered, mainly for her own benefit as Lissa was certainly not listening. The other girl stared out across the terrace at the mountain panorama.

It was a bright autumn day and the sky was a blue bowl across which a few fluffy clouds scurried. As she munched on a bag of chips and a grilled cheese sandwich, Lissa took in the view and listened with half a mind as her best friend rambling in her ear. Stephanie was chattering on about a boy she had met in the hallway, when a peculiar motion in the clouds above caught Lissa’s attention.

St. Lucia’s Academy taught in fourth grade science class that low-lying, puffy cloud formations were known as cumulus clouds. However, fourth grade science had never mentioned anything about flying ships.

Gaping in flat astonishment, Lissa watched a glimmering spar pierce the floating cotton-candy clouds just over Stephanie’s right shoulder. Emerging like a sword thrust from the billowing white tufts, the brass-tip was quickly followed by first the hull and then the double masts of a magnificent flying ship.

The terrace erupted in shouts as students scattered like mice before a leaping cat, but Lissa was too stunned to move and only stood and stared awestruck at the magnificent sight.

Don’t turn around, she said to Stephanie, which of course caused the other girl to turn.

Google search me, Stephanie breathed in a panicked whisper, What the hell is that!

The sails of the ship were oddly-shaped and brilliantly golden. It had twin turbines holding it aloft along the air currents and strange protuberances sticking out at odd angles from the hull. Along the side in gold lettering were the words, Forty-Five Dancing Girls.

What an odd name for a floating ship, Lissa thought. Through the transparent shield that covered the deck before the mizzenmast she observed strange creatures acting as crew and a chubby man directing them with a scowl on his alien face.

The golden sails luffed—crew scrambled about her deck—the galleon slowed majestically, turbines rotating and hissing with escaped steam, and as students and teachers ran madly about, scrambling for cover, Lissa and Stephanie stood and watched as it descended toward the terrace.

 She was so enthralled by the odd appearance of the ship that it was a moment before Lissa became aware of an odd pulling sensation around her waist.

Stephanie stepped back.

Where’s that glow coming from? the other girl’s eyes grew round. Lissa glanced down. A golden glow had begun to flicker about her. Her eyes leapt up to meet Stephanie’s gaze again. The other clutched her sandwich tightly in both hands as the air about them seemed to haze and shimmer and then…

It felt like a pop mixed with a fizzle and abruptly the girls found themselves standing on the deck of the hovering ship looking out over the rail at St. Lucia’s Academy.

The Earthling

Captain Nask grinned widely, showing his flat wide teeth to the small Earthlings standing on his bridge. The taller one looked at first confused and then frightened as she spotted him, but when her face settled into an air of defiance it made him grin.

Nask brushed his long floppy ears off his shoulders—a habitual gesture—and sauntered over so heavily his gait made the deck tremble.

A translator 'bot came forward—its brass fittings trimmed in wood to match the rest of the Forty-Five. The bot was small and bulbous, with a brass top hat on its shiny head, two large black sensors for eyes and a pair of small hover jets for feet.

Nask growled out a greeting and the bot obediently relayed this to the small female. She crossed her arms with a look so skeptical he needed no translation.

She rejects your kind welcome, Captain. Her tone of voice suggests extreme sarcasm and she refers to you with an epithet that likens the sound of your language with an Earth animal known for being extremely dirty.

Captain Nask gave a rumbling laugh, his grey mottled face twisting into another grimacing smile. He noticed the small curvy female elbowing her companion, as though trying to correct her behavior.

Tell her I can appreciate her anger, but it will not help matters. Our destination is the slave markets of Asterope Prime in the Pleiades Sector. They are now my property, and will do as they are told.

The bot did, and then paused slightly as the taller Earthling replied. Even after she had finished speaking he hesitated, as though his internal processors were not certain how exactly to proceed. Then, turning to face the Captain squarely, it said, She is a rather defiant little thing, isn't she?

What did she say? Nask demanded, his scowl returning.

It hardly bears repeating, Sir, the bot said firmly.

Nask gritted his teeth furiously, Bot, switch to direct translation mode, He ordered, You had better be obedient, young lady, or I’ll skip the slave market and sell you to a meat factory!

Nask watched as the Earthling shrugged, shrugged! and assumed a nonchalant pose, as though the idea of being served as part of an alien dish was of no consequence to her. The other female buried her face in her hands. At least one of them had a proper sense of self-preservation, Nask thought, bemused. He frowned when the bot translated a reply.

What a strange species, he muttered. Holding out a pair of breathing masks, he gestured forward, ordering the bot to lead the Earthlings down into the cargo hold where they would be stored.

Mrs. Phelps

Mrs. Izzie Phelps was an auburn-haired beauty. She kept her curly copper hair pinned back from her face with a clip fashioned of silver, gold and bronze leaves that her daughter had given her two years ago for Christmas. Her soft white hands were covered in just the right number of freckles and she typed in a steady patter of keys at her desk, eyes following the line of neat notes she had compiled beside her.

The phone rang. Her eyes flicked to the ID and one finger tapped the speakerphone button.

Yes?

Mrs. Phelps? the receptionist Anne had a high-pitched voice through the speaker, The Dean of St. Lucia is on the line for you. It’s about your daughter.

Put him through.

Mrs. Phelps, this is Jean-Mark Sufflet, Dean of St. Lucia, the speaker had a nice baritone, I'm calling about your daughter Lissa.

Good afternoon, Mr. Sufflet. Is everything alright with Lissa?

Yes, well, there was a pregnant pause in which Mrs. Phelps discerned that everything was not alright, I'm afraid... began Jean-Mark.

What is it? Has she done something? What could it possibly be? Lissa was a good girl and had never done anything before to warrant a personal call from the Dean.

I'm afraid, Jean-Mark began again, Mrs. Phelps, your daughter has been kidnapped by...space pirates. Mr. Jean-Mark sounded rather apologetic.

Is this some kind of joke? Mrs. Phelps felt her cheeks begin to warm with pique. What did he mean, uttering something so absurd?

I'm afraid it is not, was the remorseful reply. Budding anger chilled instantly to fear in the pit of Mrs. Phelps's stomach.

But... she trembled.

Have the seen the news today? Jean-Mark cut her off, only to be interrupted in turn by Anne who appeared at the door, a worried look on her face.

Oh, Mrs. Phelps--you better turn on the news, her words, warning and ominous, sent a further shot of trepidation into the other woman's heart, They're covering it over in Switzerland right now!

Without a word, Mrs. Phelps turned back to her computer, clicked the icon on her desktop for a news website, and glanced at the photo that flashed onto the screen.

The world stopped. For several long seconds Mrs. Phelps stared at the headline without reading a word of it. The font was bold and clear but no comprehension pierced her locked-up mind. All she could understand was that the face of her eleven-year-old daughter was staring back at her from the front page of Times paper.

Lissa had been kidnapped.

That word jarred her out of the shock and she went on to read the rest of the caption:

SPACE-NAPPED

Eleven-year-old American student stolen away by space pirates.

For the first time in her life, Mrs. Izzie Phelps fainted dead away.

Lissa Aboard

Lissa paused at the hatchway before descending ‘tween decks. Stephanie clutching her elbow from just behind her. The alien space slaver was behind them, his ray pistol held firmly between his three rubbery fingers. He jabbed its butt into her spine to keep her moving along and Lissa stumbled, wavering for one treacherous moment above the cold metal ladder that led to the cargo hold below, until Stephanie’s tight grip on her arm steadied her. She clutched the railing and gaped at the yawning hole.

Get a move on, the robot translated the captain’s growls and squeals. The bot had changed to a literal translation rather than the involved explanations he had started to give. She found it easier to understand this way, although the side comments had been useful information. Not useful enough to help me figure out what to do with this mad situation though. We’ve been kidnapped!

I don’t have a whole sun-turn! The bot added for the Captain’s sake.

Whatever that was, thought Lissa. He prodded her again.

She peered down the long drop to where the ladder disappeared into darkness. She was pretending courage she didn’t feel, knowing from just one look into Stephanie’s face that the other girl was terrified. An alien stepped out of the gloom and peered up at them from below—it was a guard dressed in the same muted gray colors as Captain Nask, holding a second ray pistol which he waved airily in her direction while motioning for her to descend the ladder.

Great, she thought ironically, another laser gun to point at me. Do I really seem so dangerous? I’m eleven!

But apparently age was no guarantee of safety to these alien minds. They watched her climb below with small black eyes set deep in their green mottled skin. Captain Nask’s face had an oily gleam in the eerie artificial light of the cargo hold, and a stench of alien sweat oozed off of them into the air which her breath mask could not filter completely as she passed the guard and followed his gestures with his gun toward the far end of the hold.

The translation robot had told her she was going down to the cargo bay. To her shock and revulsion, the ship’s cargo was not boxes of goods from various planets, nor was there a cache of strange weapons or alien technology. The corridor she stepped into was lined with the glass walls of cages—cages that held…humans.

There was an African boy, wearing little at all but a scrap of cloth over his loins and white paint across his black cheeks, still clutching a spear in his sinewy hand. His black eyes bore into his captors with a deep hatred that made her shiver. Despite his passionate demeanor he looked little older than Lissa.

Oh, look! Stephanie was pulled out of her shocked reverie. She pointed forward. In the next cage sat a Mongol boy with a haughty face. He was clothed in a thick coat of white fur and an embroidered red silk cap. The thick glass that separated them made Lissa feel she was in a museum staring at the habitats of wild animals. What had caught Stephanie’s eye and made her point was a beautiful golden eagle that sat on the boy’s wrist and mantled at them before settling down at a touch from his master.

The boy was cross-legged on the ground, his face impassive. With his eyes averted, he studiously ignored them as though it were beneath him to grant importance to aliens, but his feathered companion was not above snapping out angrily in Nask’s direction. The Captain lumbered on, unperturbed by the hostility in the hallway.

Nask paused before the next cage to tap the glass. Now his thick grey lips stretched wide in a grin. Lissa peered around him and saw that this cage was different—over five feet of water sat on the other side of the glass, the surface lapping slightly above her head. The water was murky and opaque—she saw nothing but seaweed waving slowly back and forth as she stared into its depths.

Why do you have a bunch of water?

Stupid Earthling! He made to cuff her ear but Lissa ducked away, narrowly missing his fist, That’s not just water, he gloated, Look closer.

She strained her eyes to see through the blue-green ocean tank, and then…

An octopus?

She turned to face her alien captors, You came all the way to Earth for a bunch of kids and a pet?

The alien Captain guffawed, That’s no pet, little Earthling. That’s a highly advanced intelligent life form from one of the moons of Jupiter, he nodded wisely toward the tiny blue-ringed octopus floating in seawater on the other side of the glass cell wall.

It looks like an octopus to me.

Their home, Nask ignored her comment, is shielded by a thick ice crust. Underneath the salt ocean is heated by the planet’s core. Millions of life forms are swimming around in there. Earth has become a popular vacationing spot for these little guys, he wiggled a fond finger at his captive cephalopod, Although I think it’s kinda getting discouraged now since they keep getting eaten by the indigenous population.

Lissa turned a little green.

We’re serving sentient aliens in sushi restaurants?? Stephanie gulped, horrified. One hand went to her mouth and she looked like she was trying not to listen to her gurgling stomach.

Yup, he chuckled indifferently, Well I say, if they’re dumb enough to vacation on a planet where they’re low on the food chain... He grinned.

Is that why you caught him? Lissa asked, never taking her eyes off the small creature.

Exploding suns, no! He swore, looking surprised, I’d never eat an Europan. These little guys are the best mathematicians in the Universe. Make darn-good navigators, they do. I just gotta persuade him to mind me.

His eyebrows wiggled evilly, and Lissa swallowed hard—not wanting to think what this cruel Captain might do to the poor alien octopus in order to persuade him. Did Nask have a torture chamber on this ship?

What’s a Europan? Stephanie interjected.

Europa is the Earth name for the sixth moon of Jupiter. As that is where this species originated, their genus is best translated as ‘Europan’—or, ‘inhabitant of Europa’. The translator bot explained, his hover jets tilted forward in a quick bow.

Just at that moment, a shudder seemed to run through the hull, making their feet quake. Lissa saw a rippling wave slosh water against the glass wall of the sea tank. The octopus bobbed up and down in reaction and his eyes grew wide for an instant.

What was that? Lissa cried, turning to Nask. A second shudder made her stumble sideways and a crackle came over Nask’s short-wave. The Translator bot, having no orders to the contrary, continued to translate for Lissa, Space Patrol, Captain! You better get up here!

By the exploding suns! Nask cursed, Why are they firing on us?

He seemed to forget all about the two girls. Waving his ray gun in the direction of the upper deck, he led the guards back toward the ladder, his lumbering gait full of stomping frustration, Don’t they know we have a contract to be in this sector? He growled, Why would they… the rest was lost as he rose above the upper hatch.

The Patrolman

Lissa stared around at the two captive boys in their cells. Each of them stepped up to the glass and stared back.

Um, okay, she said nervously, I’m thinking we should get out of here somehow.

She wasn’t certain they could hear her through the glass, but the African boy nodded urgently and pointed at the hatchway that led to his cell. Lissa started toward it, I don’t know how to open this, she told him. She inspected the edges of the hatchway but could find no handle.

The boy spoke, but no words reached her through the glass wall.

Stephanie followed behind her and reached out to the small black button panel beside the hatch. Her finger hovered over one of the buttons, but he shook his head and jabbed left until she touched the next one over. He nodded. She pressed it, and the hatchway hissed open, releasing the atmosphere seal with a rush of air.

Lissa cried, Oh no! Remembering too late the apparatus she wore over her mouth that served as a breath-mask. There was no Earth atmosphere in the corridor.

The boy quickly seemed to notice his mistake. He grabbed for the door and tried to close it again, but it was too heavy and refused to seal despite his straining. The air pressure inside continued hissing out. The boy started to gasp in the remaining thin air.

Help me! Stephanie cried. She pushed on the door, straining with the effort to close it.

Lissa joined her, shoving her shoulder against the edge to try and lever it back into place. It moved a fraction but still air hissed out. The pressure of the atmosphere releasing into the hallway was adding to the difficulty, she realized. 

Inside, the air was becoming thin. The boy left off pulling on the door. He was gasping for air. As Lissa watched, her feet scrambling on the smooth floor for purchase, he fell to his knees.

A slim black hand reached from behind them and pressed against the door. Startled, Lissa glanced back and a strange sight met her eyes—a tall