Water Planet Rescue Read online

  “Things will be back to business as usual soon, I’m sure,” Dad says.

  “Are you certain you can trust this… this cat?” she asks, unable to hide her dislike. Turns out cats and mice are sworn enemies everywhere in the universe, not just on Earth.

  “I can hear you, you know,” Pockets calls from the backseat. He has pulled out a towel and is trying to dry his wet, matted fur.

  “I trust him,” Dad assures her.

  “Fine,” she snaps. “You are cleared for takeoff. As usual, be careful up there.”

  “Always am,” Dad says. “Morningstar over and out.”

  The second set of straps pins us to our seats and the taxi speeds up.

  “What are mods?” I have to shout over the noise of the engine.

  “Modifications,” my dad shouts back. “Changes we need to make to the taxi.”

  I grip the seat as the front tires lift off the ground and we begin to zoom toward the blue sky. I forgot how fast we go at takeoff. I swallow hard and wait to catch my breath before shouting over the roar of the rocket boosters. “Why do you need to change anything? What’s wrong with the taxi?”

  “Nothing,” Dad yells, pulling down on the throttle as we pass through the clouds. “Nautilus is a water planet. Our space taxi will need to become a space submarine.”

  Underwater Deputy Archie Morningstar has a nice ring to it! “Do you always have to do this when you go to Nautilus?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “I’ve been to Akbar’s for repairs many times, but I’ve never been to Nautilus.”

  This surprises me. Hasn’t my dad been everywhere? “But I thought your job took you all over the universe.”

  “The universe is a really big place, Archie,” he says as the taxi picks up speed. “Even after all these years of traveling through it, I’ve only seen a tiny slice.”

  I turn to look behind us. The sun is now a small glowing blob as we head out of the solar system.

  “This would be a good time to start guiding us to Akbar’s,” Dad says. “It’s orbiting near the outer arm of the Milky Way.”

  I stowed the tube under the backseat earlier this morning. Pockets hands it to me, and I hurry to unroll the map. Then I stop. What if my being able to read the map was a one-time thing? What if all I see are dots and squiggles again and Dad has to go back to Earth to find a real space taxi copilot?

  I guess I’m about to find out. I lay the map open in my lap and hold my breath. Nothing happens. I focus on the paper, silently begging it to work. A few seconds later the map springs to life, sending stars and planets into the air above my lap.

  PHEW!

  “Akbar’s Floating Rest Stop, please,” I say out loud. The map zooms in on a small object out past a triple star system. I scan the area to see the best route. “Okay, Dad. Left past the third red star, then a quick right.”

  Dad follows my instructions, and we’re on our way.

  “Good job, Archie,” he says.

  “So what’s the big weather emergency, anyway?” I ask Pockets.

  “Nautilus is covered in water,” Pockets tells us. “Half the people live under the ocean, and the other half live on islands they built on the surface. But the water level is going down fast. No one knows why. That’s what we’re going to find out.”

  “How are we going to do that?” Dad asks.

  “Because I’m on the case.”

  Pockets is a very confident cat.

  A few minutes later we approach what looks like a gigantic shopping mall floating in space. A huge flashing billboard sticking out of the top announces: AKBAR’S FLOATING REST STOP, FOR ALL YOUR TRAVEL NEEDS. Then underneath, in smaller (but still huge) letters, it says: IF YOU LIVED HERE, YOU’D BE HOME NOW. Then in even smaller (but still really big) letters it says: JUST KIDDING. YOU CAN’T LIVE HERE. BUT STOP BY FOR A VISIT. WE’RE ALWAYS OPEN.

  My eyes open wider and wider as we soar past flashing neon signs for the bathrooms, the snack bar, the gift shop, the game room, and, most surprising of all, a Barney’s Bagels and Schmear restaurant! All the way out here!

  On every side of the huge floating building are long metal arms with hand-like clamps on the ends. Most of the arms have spaceships of different sizes and shapes attached to them. Dad steers the taxi toward an empty pair of metal arms. The arms reach out toward the taxi and clamp onto our front bumper. The taxi gives a small shudder, and then Dad turns off the engine. He flips on the com line. “Salazar Morningstar,” he announces. Then adds, “And friends.”

  “Greetings, Mr. Morningstar,” a friendly voice replies. “Please state the purpose of your visit to Akbar’s today.”

  “We have an appointment at Graff’s Garage,” Dad says.

  “Please stay seated,” the voice instructs. The taxi begins to glide along the side of the building, and I crane my neck to see out the window. The metal arms are moving us to another spot. One final jolt and we stop. Then two large metal doors slide open and our car is pulled inside the building. When we stop, we’re about twenty feet above the ground. A blinking sign announces: WELCOME TO GRAFF’S GARAGE. IF WE CAN’T FIX IT, IT AIN’T BROKE.

  “Enjoy your visit,” the pleasant voice says. “And don’t forget to get a bagel from Barney’s on your way out.”

  Pockets licks his lips and says, “This Barney’s location has the best tuna fish sandwich this side of the Milky Way. Yuuuumy!” He rubs his still-damp belly. That cat sure does love his tuna.

  “You’ve been here before, too?” I ask.

  “Everyone’s been to Akbar’s Rest Stop,” Pockets replies. “Come, let’s get the taxi fixed up so we can get to the tuna!”

  “And to Nautilus,” I add.

  “Yes, of course,” Pockets says, but doesn’t take his eyes off the sign for Barney’s.

  I peer out the windshield. We’re nowhere near the ground. Before I can warn him, Pockets flings open his door and steps out.

  Chapter Four:

  Graff’s Garage

  “Pockets!” I shout, my heart racing. I throw open my door and look all around. I don’t see him anywhere.

  “Down here,” a voice calls out.

  Pockets! I whip my head around until I find him standing on a movable sidewalk that runs along the opposite side of the car. He waves as the sidewalk glides him toward a door in the middle of the wall marked GARAGE.

  Phew!

  Dad chuckles and I realize he’s holding on to the back of my bathing suit. “At least you didn’t try to climb out your own door,” he says, letting go. “The sidewalk’s only on the driver’s side.”

  I scramble over and follow Dad out onto the moving walkway. I try not to think about what would have happened if I had hopped out my own door with nowhere to go but the floor far below. Penny would take my bedroom, that’s for sure. She would pull down my maps of the city and replace them with pictures of unicorns and fairies and mermaids. I shudder at the thought.

  The sidewalk takes us into a large mechanic’s shop loaded with equipment and vehicles. Whirring, beeping, grinding, and banging sounds bounce off the high ceiling. It would look just like any big mechanic’s shop at home if it weren’t for the fact that the workers all appear to be giant man-size ants with hard black shells and antennae that wave from their heads as they work.

  I shrink back. I still have nightmares from dropping an ant farm when I was in kindergarten. It totally wasn’t my fault, by the way. The floor was wet from spilled juice, and anyone would have slipped on it. (Although, now that I think of it, the juice may have been my fault.) The tiny ants flew everywhere. Mom was picking them out of my hair for days.

  The tallest of the ant guys spots us and waves one long arm. He hops off a ladder and slides a wrench into a pocket hanging off his belt. “Sal Morningstar!” he says in exactly the kind of chirpy voice you would think an ant would have, only deeper. “How you doin’, man?”

  Dad smiles and reaches for one of the guy’s four hands. A stream of oozy grease slides onto Dad’s hand as the