Akiko on the Planet Smoo Read online

“Yeah, I slept like a rock,” I said, trying to squelch another yawn. “I’m not that crazy about Smoo so far, but at least the beds are pretty good.” And it was true. I’d slept better on that bed than I did on my own bed back at home.

  “Please come this way, Akiko. Your breakfast is waiting.”

  They led me out to a small table on an outdoor balcony, where they’d set out an amazing variety of fruits and pastries and stuff. There were bottles of several different kinds of juice, and little bowls filled with something that looked like pudding. The sun warmed my face, and there was a gentle breeze as I looked around and enjoyed the view. I was already starting to feel a little better about things.

  I sat down and sampled the unusually shaped pieces of fruit one by one. Each of them had a very interesting taste, and almost none had any seeds whatsoever. The pudding stuff was also delicious and very filling. As nervous as I was about what was yet to come, I had to admit I was enjoying the food!

  After breakfast I was once again taken to see King Froptoppit. He was standing in a small room at the intersection of several corridors. Sunlight poured in from a glass-domed ceiling, covering the walls and pillars with a pinkish glow.

  “Good morning, Akiko.” He beamed at me, giving me a hearty handshake. “I hope you enjoyed your breakfast.”

  “Well, yes, it was actually quite good,” I said.

  “How about the Smagberries?” he asked with a wink. “Good, aren’t they?”

  “Oh yes, they were delicious,” I answered. Actually I had no idea which of the things I’d eaten was a Smagberry, but I didn’t want to make things difficult.

  “Come along, Akiko,” he said, taking me by the arm. “I want you to meet Mr. Beeba. You’ll like Mr. Beeba. I’m quite sure of it.”

  He suddenly stopped and turned to me, raising a finger.

  “He takes a little getting used to, mind you,” he said. “A bit of a stick-in-the-mud sometimes, I’m afraid. But you’ll like him, Akiko. I’m sure of it.”

  He did his best to reassure me about the mission as he led me down a bunch of long corridors and through a number of different rooms. He kept saying how straightforward the mission really was, and that the only things needed were perseverance and an optimistic outlook. There was something very effective about his cheerful way of talking, and it made me feel a lot less anxious.

  Passing through one final doorway, he led me into a small circular room filled from top to bottom with books. There were dozens of shelves and cabinets built into the walls, each of them packed with books. There were tables here and there, all of them covered with books and papers. And (as if the keeper of the room had finally given up on finding space for everything) there were big stacks of books all over the floor, some of them reaching almost up to the ceiling. We found King Froptoppit’s friend sitting at a table in a little alcove, nearly buried in books and papers. Startled by our entrance, he jumped to his feet and tried to make himself presentable.

  Mr. Beeba was such an odd sight that he made King Froptoppit look quite ordinary by comparison. He had spindly little arms and legs, with oversized gloves and oversized feet. His head had big tufts of fur on either side where his ears ought to be, but no hair on the top or back. His eyes were as big as eggs, and they peered out from above a pair of spectacles that looked as if they’d been plucked from the nearest librarian.

  He looked me over with a mixture of surprise and disappointment.

  “Akiko, this is Mr. Beeba,” King Froptoppit said as he brought me before the little man. The top of his head was only about as high as my shoulder.

  “It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Akiko,” he said, bowing slightly. “Your reputation precedes you.”

  “Mr. Beeba is one of four loyal companions I have chosen to help you on your mission,” King Froptoppit explained. “He is a brilliant scholar and highly respected throughout the galaxy.”

  “His Majesty flatters me,” Mr. Beeba protested with just a hint of a smile. “To call me a brilliant scholar is to gravely dilute the meaning of the word brilliant, I must say.”

  “Mr. Beeba is very knowledgeable in all manner of subjects,” King Froptoppit continued, causing the little man to smile even more. “Everything from transgalactic irrigation theory to medieval weather forecasting. He will doubtless prove to be an invaluable part of the mission.”

  “Have you ever been on a rescue mission before?” I asked.

  “Well, er . . . ,” he replied nervously, making little fidgety gestures with his enormous hands, “I’ve certainly read my share of books on the subject. Some of them more than once. I’ve definitely got the theory end of it down, and it’s, er, just a matter of putting that theory into practice, you see. . . .”

  “Ah, Poog!” King Froptoppit said, turning his attention to someone who had just entered the room. “Good of you to join us. There’s a person I want you to meet.” Whoever it was had come in so silently that I hadn’t even realized he was there. I turned around quickly to get a look.

  Nothing anyone could have said would have prepared me for meeting Poog. Even now it’s very difficult to describe him. Poog was really little more than a floating head. He had two eyes, one mouth, and no nose. He was almost perfectly round and covered by pale purple-white skin that shimmered like smooth leather. His eyes were as big as pancakes and as glossy and black as a pair of dark glasses. His mouth was no more than an inch from one side to the other. It was almost impossible to detect any expression on his face; a hint of a smile was all there was to see.

  Poog made a quick warbly sound and smiled at me, blinking once or twice. His high-pitched voice was garbled and seemed to pack lots of information into very short bursts, like a tape recorder playing at very high speed.

  “Poog says he’s pleased to meet you Akiko,” Mr. Beeba translated.

  “P-Pleased to meet you, Poog,” I said, unable to take my eyes off this strange alien creature. It seemed impossible to me that anyone could understand such a language. Mr. Beeba, however, was evidently very familiar with it and seemed to enjoy playing the part of Poog’s translator.

  There was nothing scary about Poog, but it was pretty weird meeting him for the first time. I wanted to ask a lot of questions about him, but I didn’t know if it would be considered impolite. I decided just to keep an eye on him and see if I could figure anything out on my own.

  “Now, before we go any further, Akiko, I must tell you about the person who kidnapped my son, and where you’ll have to go to rescue him.” King Froptoppit led us all out onto a balcony overlooking the entire palace. The sun had risen a bit higher in the sky, and the view was quite spectacular. The King cleared his throat, as if he were preparing to deliver a speech.

  “Prince Froptoppit was kidnapped by an evil, misguided woman named Alia Rellapor,” he began, stroking his chin and drawing his eyebrows together in an expression of grave seriousness. “She was once the loveliest woman in the galaxy, but that was long ago. Now she is my sworn enemy and desires nothing more than the ruination of my kingdom. Without my son upon the throne, there will be nothing to stop her from destroying us once and for all.

  “We know only that she is keeping the Prince in her remote castle hideaway in the mountains,” he continued. “What I need you to do, then, is go to this castle, find him, and bring him back. It should be a relatively simple matter once you’ve gotten inside Alia’s castle. With any luck you’ll be able to get him out of there without ever having to deal with Rellapor herself.”

  Mr. Beeba nodded in agreement, while Poog hovered silently over his shoulder. I felt a little better about going on the mission now that I knew I wouldn’t have to do it alone. I still wished King Froptoppit hadn’t put me in charge of it, though.

  “I thought you said there were four people who were going to help me out here,” I reminded him.

  “Yes, of course, Akiko,” King Froptoppit said, his face brightening. “You’ll love the other two chaps I’ve got lined up for you. Won’t she, Mr. Beeba?”
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br />   “Spuckler and Gax?” Mr. Beeba asked, as if he was not entirely sure how to answer. “They are both . . . reasonably competent, Your Majesty, yes.”

  “Very well then!” King Froptoppit exclaimed, slapping Mr. Beeba on the back. “Off you go!”

  We said goodbye to King Froptoppit and made our way down through the palace to a kind of parking garage for spaceships. It was filled with dozens of little round ships just like the one Bip and Bop had used to bring me to Smoo. Mr. Beeba was carrying a large bag along with him, groaning and panting under its enormous weight.

  “Do you want me to help you with that, Mr. Beeba?” I asked.

  “No, no, Akiko. I’ve got it, thank you,” he replied, dropping it to the ground and pushing it from behind. “On second thought, yes, Akiko. I probably could use a hand here.”

  I lifted one end of it while he took the other, and we carried it the last hundred yards or so together.

  “What’s in this thing, anyway?” I asked.

  “Why, books, of course, Akiko,” he replied as if the question didn’t even need to be asked. “Can’t go anywhere without books.”

  “Are they books about rescuing people?” I asked.

  “Rescuing people?” he replied with a blank expression.

  “Yes,” I answered. “I mean, we are supposed to be—”

  “Oh, rescuing people!” he interrupted. “Yes, of course, I see what you’re getting at. No, I’m afraid I haven’t got any books about rescuing people. These books are mainly just for my pleasure reading, you see. There are a number of useful maps, however. . . .”

  “But you said a minute ago that you’d read a lot of books about rescuing people!”

  “Yes, well, I can see where you might have gotten that impression, Akiko,” he replied with a certain amount of embarrassment. “The fact is, books written on the subject of rescuing people are in rather short supply here on Smoo.”

  “Short supply?”

  “That is to say,” he continued hesitantly, “there aren’t any at all. What I meant was that if there were such books and I had them in my library, I’d have certainly gotten around to reading them by now.”

  “I can’t believe this,” I said, starting to feel kind of panicky again.

  “But, Akiko, the whole reason we’ve brought you here is because of your expertise in rescuing people,” he said, eyeing me suspiciously. “Surely there’s nothing written on the subject that you don’t already know.”

  “Yeah,” I answered, trying my best to sound confident. “Sure. I mean . . . when it comes to rescuing people, books are, um, you know, no substitute for real experience.”

  “Undoubtedly,” Mr. Beeba replied. He didn’t look entirely convinced.

  Finally we arrived at the ship we were going to use and hoisted the bag into its trunk. Mr. Beeba invited me to sit in the backseat while he got behind the wheel in front. Poog, who didn’t need a seat, just floated along beside us.

  After we were both settled in, Mr. Beeba fired up the engines and carefully steered the little ship through a huge opening in the wall. I looked over the edge and caught a dizzying glimpse of the lower portions of the palace, which stretched hundreds of feet to the ground. Before long we emerged from the towers and flags and glided out over the desertlike surface of Smoo. Mountains and boulders of all sizes zoomed by on either side of us as we made our way through valleys and canyons and across wide open plains.

  I really had no idea where they were taking me, but I figured it would look pretty unprofessional to start asking a lot of questions. After all, Mr. Beeba obviously still thought I was some kind of rescue expert, and I didn’t want him to lose confidence in me. He looked pretty nervous as it was.

  Suddenly there was a burst of high-pitched noise near one of my ears. For a second I thought I was being attacked by some sort of insect. Then I realized it was Poog talking to me in his weird warbly language. Needless to say, I didn’t understand a single word.

  “Poog says to plug your nose, Akiko,” Mr. Beeba explained. “The man we’re going to visit raises Bropka lizards for a living. They are among the most foul-smelling creatures on the planet.”

  He paused a moment, then added, “In fact, Spuckler himself is not exactly a treat for the nose. He really should bathe more often than he does.”

  I slumped down in the seat and hoped he was just exaggerating.

  Before long we flew over a big wooden shacklike building way out in the middle of nowhere. It looked like it had been built one room at a time, hammered together from pieces of scrap wood, with no plan or blueprint. The rickety structure was surrounded on all sides by hundreds of really strange-looking two-headed lizards, most of which were lazily wandering from one patch of grass to another. Fortunately they weren’t very scary looking. They actually seemed like very peaceful creatures, content to just stand there and graze like a bunch of cows. Poog was right about the smell, though. They were just about the stinkiest animals I’d ever caught a whiff of! I took Poog’s advice and gave my nose a good plugging.

  Mr. Beeba brought the ship in for a landing, sending half a dozen or so lizards scattering in all directions. I looked up and saw a man sitting on a rock, feeding the lizards right from his hands.

  The first thing I noticed was his hair, which looked like it had never been anywhere near a comb in the man’s entire life. It was a very deep blue color, almost black, and it sprang from his head in curvy spikes like the top of a pineapple. His unshaven face was long and very narrow, and he smiled at me with big white teeth, as if I were already an old friend. The one other thing I couldn’t help noticing about him was that he had a peg leg instead of a left foot. But as he jumped up and ran to meet us, I realized that his little handicap didn’t slow him down a bit.

  “Akiko, this is Spuckler Boach,” said Mr. Beeba, sounding like he was apologizing for something.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Boach.”

  “Mr. Boach?” he called out with a laugh. “I ain’t never heard no one call me that before. Please, jus’ call me Spuckler.” He grabbed my hand and gave it a few good shakes.

  “Don’t break the young lady’s wrist, Spuckler,” Mr. Beeba said with a scowl. “She’s come a very long way to help us, you know.”

  “Yeah, I heard all about ya, li’l girl,” he said, still grinning. “Sounds like you done a whole buncha rescuin’ in your time.”

  “Well, um . . . ,” I began, feeling Mr. Beeba eyeing me suspiciously, “I’ve rescued a few people here and there, yes.”

  “How’s about you two join me for a little bite to eat?” Spuckler said, taking me by the arm. “I’m fixin’ up some Bropka steaks that’ll make you wanna live here permanent.”

  “Gee, I don’t know. . . .”

  “Spuckler, I’m afraid we haven’t time for your culinary escapades right now,” Mr. Beeba interrupted, much to my relief. “As you will recall, King Froptoppit has entrusted us with a very important mission.”

  “Oh yeah,” Spuckler said, a more serious expression coming over his face. “Alia Rellapor.”

  The name alone was already starting to scare me. Still, it was good to know that a tough-looking guy like Spuckler would be coming along. He looked like he’d been in a lot of fights. Actually, he looked like he’d lost a lot of fights. But at least I could tell he wasn’t scared of Alia Rellapor.

  “Hang on, then,” Spuckler said, trotting off to the rickety wooden building. “I’ll get Gax.”

  “Gax is Spuckler’s robot,” Mr. Beeba explained in a whisper. “Now, don’t expect anything too sleek and streamlined. Otherwise you’ll be sorely disappointed.”

  When Spuckler returned, he was followed by a clunky, squeaky, rusty machine that was every bit as messy looking as Spuckler himself. This robot moved around on four wheels like a child’s wagon. He had no arms, and his whole body was like a big round garbage can, filled to the rim with all kinds of pipes and empty cans and other junk. His head was perched on the top of a long spindly neck, which twisted from
side to side like a crooked old stick. And his face, if I can call it that, was nothing but two mechanical eyes attached to a box, with no mouth of any kind.

  “IT IS A PLEASURE TO MEET YOU, MA’AM,” he said in a low-pitched voice that sounded kind of like a worn-down answering machine. “DO LET ME KNOW IF I CAN BE OF ANY ASSISTANCE.”

  “Polite, ain’t he?” Spuckler said, as if it were some sort of defect. “He’s programmed that way.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Gax,” I said, leaning over to get a better look at him. He was covered with dents and marks and scratches, as if he’d taken just as much punishment over the years as his master had.

  “Well, that’s it, Akiko,” Mr. Beeba said, directing all of us to the spaceship. “You’ve met everyone in the rescue party. Now let’s get going.”

  Even though I was supposed to be in charge of the mission, you could tell that Mr. Beeba was kind of taking over for me. I think he’d already guessed that I wasn’t the rescue expert I was supposed to be. Which was fine by me, of course. I was perfectly happy to sit in the back and let the others be in charge.

  Spuckler insisted on being the pilot, and Mr. Beeba agreed only after making him promise that he’d be more careful “than last time.” So Spuckler and Gax took the front seat while Mr. Beeba and I climbed in back. Poog, as before, just floated around after us the whole time.

  I could see why Mr. Beeba was nervous about letting Spuckler do the flying. He made the ship go as fast as it could and always waited until the last second before swerving to avoid boulders and cliffs and stuff. I think he was kind of showing off.

  “Spuckler! For heaven’s sake!” Mr. Beeba was furious.

  “Relax, Beeba,” Spuckler said, narrowly missing a huge rock, “I’m jus’ gettin’ a feel for what this thing is capable of.”

  “It’s capable of crashing, you idiot!” Mr. Beeba bellowed. For such a little guy, he could be awfully loud.