The Secret Case of the Space Station Stowaways

By Pat Monteith

Mae and Clinton's teenage mentor from the future, Selectra Volt, can only give them vague hints about what will occur. Their time travel takes them to visit space historian Steven Dick, ancient Chinese admiral Zheng He, Isaac Newton, Wernher von Braun, astronaut Sunita Williams, space sickness scholar Suzanne Nooij, and astronaut and asteroid scholar Ed Lu. When they learn that the malicious Dr. Gravitium is hunting asteroids, they have to come up with a plan and visit the space station to try and stop him before he destroys one, or maybe two, worlds.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tumblehome, Inc.
• Release date: Oct 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781943431717

Book preview

Chapter 1

Escape!

Beads of sweat trickled from Clinton’s brow, and the space capsule shook violently as it hurtled through the clouds. Through his nausea, Clinton clung to the thought that he was the youngest person ever to fly into outer space and to the International Space Station. Mae went to a summer space camp, but here I am on a real mission! he thought.

But he was actually starting to feel worse. He looked to his left to get reassurance from his fellow astronaut that everything was okay. But instead of Buzz Aldrin, Clinton saw only a hazy green and pink light and someone who looked like Selectra Volt, a Dudette from the future who sometimes called on Clinton and his friend Mae to solve mysteries for the Galactic Academy of Science, or G.A.S. It can’t be Selectra, thought Clinton. Am I hallucinating or imagining things?

All of a sudden Clinton realized he was going to puke, and the horror of puking into his space helmet while lying on his back made him struggle against his seat straps, fighting to sit up. Lunging forward as hard as he could, he found himself sitting in his own bed. So he’d been dreaming. But then his stomach churned again, and Clinton raced to the bathroom.

Clinton’s mother appeared at the bathroom door in her bathrobe, holding out a glass of water. Mushrooms, anchovies and hot peppers, she scolded. I told you those three didn’t belong on one pizza.

Okay mom, you made your point, Clinton grumbled. He washed out his mouth and set the glass down.

Well, see if you can get back to sleep, said his mom. She led him back to his room and tucked him in as if he was still only six years old instead of almost thirteen and going into seventh grade. Mae’s coming home from summer camp tomorrow, isn’t she?

Yeah, and I have stuff to tell her.

Clinton’s mother turned out the light, and Clinton murmured, Thanks, Mom. As he drifted back off to sleep, he had the feeling that although the space trip was a dream, Selectra really had been in the room with him. That was strange: usually when Selectra visited from the future, she appeared to Clinton and Mae together, carrying an X-PA time-travel device and giving them a confidential Galactic Academy of Science mission to perform. Selectra wasn’t the kind of person who lurked in the shadows.

It was nearly ten when Clinton awoke. His younger sister Chelsea had already finished her breakfast, but she sat at the table spinning a fork and teasing him about his middle-of-the-night trip to the bathroom. Clinton’s head spun with the fork, and all he could get out of his sour-tasting mouth was, Mom, make her be quiet, please?

After he brushed his teeth, ate some toast and a banana, drank some ginger ale and brushed his teeth again, Clinton finally felt well enough to text Mae and invite himself over. Mae Jemison Harris was the smartest person in Clinton’s grade, and she could be stubborn and impatient. However, Mae and Clinton worked well together on their Galactic Academy of Science missions, and working with Mae on school projects usually helped to bring up Clinton’s grades. Sometimes Mae acted like no one else’s opinions or suggestions mattered, but this time Clinton had an idea for her—an idea that could turn out to be way more exciting than her two weeks at the camp at the Christa McAuliffe Center.

By the time Clinton reached Mae’s house, he was feeling back to normal. He bounded up the stairs two at a time until he remembered the precious payload in his bag and slowed to a walk. "Hmm, payload, he laughed to himself. Mae’s astronaut talk is rubbing off on me."

Ignoring the two-foot tall bag that Clinton carried into the house, Mae started right in, almost incoherent. It was so great, I couldn’t decide which crew I wanted to be on. There were so many choices. There were the Communications and the Probe Crews. I thought I might really want to be part of the Data Crew because I like working with numbers. And the Navigation Crew seemed so cool because it was part of the Mars Control division.

Slow down, Clinton suggested. Your words are running all together.

Mae paused for breath. We’re going to be learning some chemistry this year, so I decided to join the Life Support Crew and test a possible contaminated water supply aboard the space flight simulator. Mae babbled faster. But I also could have learned a lot as part of the Isolation Crew, since they had to deal with chemicals leaking into the spacecraft’s atmosphere.

Clinton had been patient enough. That’s all great about your summer camp, he said. But listen to this. I’ve entered us in a science competition linked up to the International Space Station. If we win, we get a trip to Florida to watch a real live rocket launch.

"It wasn’t just a summer camp, Clinton! Mae said. Wait, what are you talking about? What space station competition? I didn’t hear about this. What do we have to do? When is the project due? What’s the project all about? What did you sign us up for – Crystal Growth? Agriculture? Nutrition?"

Clinton responded softly, "Ants."

What did you say? Endurance? Acoustics? Water Quality? Environmental Issues?

No, Clinton said. Ants.

Mae jumped up from her chair, threw her arms wide, and screamed, "Ants! You signed us up to do a project on ants! Have you lost your mind?"

One of Mae’s hands struck the bag Clinton had placed on the kitchen table. In slow motion, the bag slid off the tabletop and headed for the tile floor. As he lunged for the sack Clinton wailed, No! My ants!

The bag hit the floor with a crinkling of glass. As Clinton tried to gather it in his arms, a file of ants, and then hundreds, poured from the zippered opening and scurried in all directions. Mae also cried out, No! but it was too late. Mae tried to block some of the ants with her arm but they just crawled over her, and she squealed. The ants headed under the refrigerator, into the dining room, into the bathroom and toward the back door.

Both of them stood frozen. Mae groaned, "Oh, no! My mother is going to be so mad. She really really does not like ants. What are we going to do?"

Chapter 2

The Scrapbook

A female voice sounded behind them. Whoa! What a disaster! Totally amoeboid!

Mae whirled around to see Selectra Volt, teenaged Dudette from the future, laughing uncontrollably. The sound of her laughter annoyed Mae just as much as her habit of speaking in slang from her future world. Mae, already fuming because of the ant catastrophe, was in no mood for a time-traveling visit from a Dudette with a green skin-tight outfit and spiked pink hair to match her pink pom-poms.

Hey, Selectra! Clinton said, his voice strained, Can we use your X-PA to go back in time to just before Mae knocked over the ants? Then we can prevent this mess.

Selectra clutched her belly to try and contain her laughter. She held up the X-PA, a device that looked like a smartphone, with dials and displays on its face. Silly question! Regulations: the Expedition Personal Assistant can only be used for space-time travel to the past for a Galactic Academy of Science mission.

Well, if you aren’t going to help us, then just go away and come back another time, moaned Mae. I need to deal with my own problems right now.

Selectra’s laughter died away to be replaced by a look of hurt surprise. Okay, she said, "but I hope I can come back tomorrow about a really important, and um, somewhat dangerous mission. It’s very important to me. I-I-I, she stuttered, I mean, it’s important to the Academy. You should like it, Mae – it has to do with the space station." Without waiting for a response, Selectra swung her X-PA in a loop and vanished. Mae went back to trying to herd ants with pages from a torn-up magazine.

But less than a minute later, with ants still scattering, Mae stood at attention and her eyes widened. Arrrgh, what did I do!

You sent Selectra away, Clinton growled. Selectra Volt, our G.A.S. handler. You refused a mission. Do you think they keep recruits who do that? They’ll probably kick us out of the Academy.

Well, it’s your fault, because of the ants! Mae stamped her foot, and then looked down. She had crushed three ants. Much as she disliked ants, Mae didn’t really want to murder them and get ant juice all over the floor.

Feeling a little guilty, Mae looked at Clinton, Did she say the mission has to do with the International Space Station? Oh, man, I really blew it. She cupped her hands around her mouth and called into the air, "Hey Selectra, I didn’t really mean for you to