It was Susan Simmons, and I suddenly realized I had missed her more than I had guessed. I sighed. Why couldn’t the aliens have hooked me into her brain?
With the URAT to help me, I told Susan how to free Duncan from the force field. Once she had him out, I was a little surprised to find that Duncan and I were still in contact.
When he said that he was surprised as well, I replied, “Of course. Your head is what we call wetware—an organic machine. At the moment, you happen to be one of the most powerful communication devices in the galaxy, Duncan. Now listen, I’ve got some important stuff to tell you. There are big things happening up here, and you need to—oh no!”
The last words came out as a shout of terror, because a pair of hands had just grabbed me by the back.
“You shouldn’t do things like that, Peter,” said Broxholm, turning me around and picking me up so that I had to stare straight into his huge orange eyes. “It makes it harder for us to trust you.”
I wondered how much Broxholm had heard of what I had just told Duncan and Susan. Then I realized he couldn’t have heard any of it, since it had all been done inside my head!
“The Council wants to see you again,” said Broxholm. Carrying me across the room, he stepped through the transcendental elevator and back into the council chamber.
“What do you know about the fall of Hoo-Lan?” asked the sea-green alien, as soon as I was standing before the council again. He seemed sterner than ever, maybe even angry.
I hesitated. “He tried to connect himself to my mind,” I said. “It happened to him then.”
The other members of the council stirred restlessly. I got the sense I had said or done something wrong.
“Hoo-Lan was a fool,” said the alien with purple tentacles.
Something inside me snapped. I had had enough of their superiority, their all-powerful lording it over me. I liked Hoo-Lan. No, I loved Hoo-Lan. He had been kind and gentle to me, taught me things, cared for me.
“Don’t you say that!” I cried, rushing toward the alien.
I suppose it wasn’t the best demonstration of how earthlings might be expected to control themselves. It didn’t make any difference; I ran right through him without touching him.
I stopped, turned around, blinked in dismay.
I walked back toward the alien, waving my arms. They passed back and forth through his purple body.
“Broxholm!” I cried. “What’s going on!”
He looked startled. “Did you really think they were here?” he asked. Then he blinked and said, “Do you realize who these beings are?”
“The people in charge of the ship?” I asked uncertainly.
Broxholm’s nose twitched. The images of the other eight aliens responded with their various forms of laughter.
“These are the chief leaders of the Interplanetary Council,” said Broxholm.
I ran back to his side, stunned at what he was saying. I had just tried to punch out one of the rulers of the galaxy!
For a kid who considers himself an intellectual, this was not the high point of my emotional life.
“What are they doing here?” I whispered. “Or not doing here?” I added, trying to salvage some dignity with a little humor.
“We generally meet via holographic projection,” said a red alien, who looked sort of like a pile of seaweed. “It is simplest that way, as it allows us to stay on our own planets, and yet remain in contact. That way, we can hold our meetings anywhere we wish.”
“As to your defense of Hoo-Lan,” said the purple alien I had tried to clobber, “the emotion is admirable even if your way of expressing it is deplorable—and totally typical of your kind.”
For a moment I had a terrible feeling they were going to blow up the planet because I had lost my temper. That was more guilt than I wanted to deal with!
“However you misunderstand our relationship with your mentor. Hoo-Lan was once a member of this council. He chose to resign, to pursue other interests. We have the utmost respect for him. We merely think he is wrongheaded.”
“He has sent us a message,” said the shadow. “I fear it may be the last message we will ever have from him.”
I felt a lump begin to form in my throat. Had being in touch with my brain killed him? Were the people of Earth that terrible?
“Ever so gloomy,” said Red Seaweed to the shadow. “Hoo-Lan may yet rejoin us.”
“May and may not,” replied the shadow. “Nonetheless, while you know that I favor the destruction of the Earth, I am willing to hold back in favor of what may be Hoo-Lan’s last request.”
“What was his last request?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“That we perform one final study of the Earth before we make our decision,” said the shadow. “Personally, I think this is an enormous waste of time. But out of respect for a fallen comrade, I accede to his wishes, which specifically call for you and Broxholm to return to Earth and, with the help of the agent who is already in place there, file a final report.”
“Those in favor?” asked Sea-green.
The vote was unanimous.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Home to Home
Once these aliens made up their minds, they weren’t ones to dillydally. Within minutes Broxholm and I were riding a blue beam from the ship to the Earth.
One reason we could do that was that the last space-shift had brought us back into Earth orbit. The transporter beam only had a range of a few hundred thousand miles.
I think that the funniest thing I ever saw in my life was the look on Duncan’s face when Broxholm and I shimmered into place in Kreeblim’s attic.
That was the funniest thing. The most beautiful thing (I can’t believe I’m saying this!) was Susan Simmons’s face.
Of course, part of what made it so lovely to me was how glad she was to see me.
“Peter!” she cried, running over and throwing her arms around me.
I was a little embarrassed. “Hi, Susan,” I said. “It’s nice to see you.”
Gak! “Nice to see you.” How stupid! That was a tenth, a thousandth of what I wanted to say to her. Only I didn’t know how—especially with everyone else around us.
Broxholm broke the awkwardness of the moment in his own stiff way. “Good evening, Miss Simmons, Mr. Dougal,” he said, nodding his green head. “I can’t say it is exactly a pleasure to see you again, but since we are going to be working together, I hope that we will be able to put the past behind us.”
For Broxholm, it was a pretty gracious speech.
“Working together?” asked Susan.
“How would you like to save the Earth?” I asked, trying to sound casual and heroic.
We didn’t give them much chance to answer, to tell you the truth. Within minutes I led the way back to the takeoff position. Duncan positioned himself between me and Susan, which was annoying. I told myself to ignore it; from tapping into his brain, I knew what he had been through in the last month.
Of course, I had been through a lot myself.
The blue beam shimmered around us. We were dissolved into electrons and hurtled into space, then reformed inside the great alien ship that I had ridden to the stars.
Somewhere below us was the planet we had to save.
Somewhere below us was my father.
Somewhere in the ship was a little blue alien who had made a dying wish that the Earth would have a final chance.
We had to honor that, try with all our hearts to save the planet.
We had to honor him.
I hoped that somehow he would live, so that Susan and Duncan could meet him.
Seconds later Kreeblim and Broxholm arrived.
“You’re lucky,” I told Susan and Duncan. “Traveling by transport beam saves you a trip through the disinfecting process.”
“Disinfecting?” asked Duncan, wrinkling his nose.
“I’ll tell you all about it later.”
“You can tell them now, if you want,” said Broxholm. “Kreeblim and I
must go in for a meeting with the Council. You’ll have some time while we’re gone.”
With that, the two of them disappeared through the transcendental elevator.
“All right, Peter, give,” said Susan.
“Beg pardon?” I asked innocently.
But you know all that part. I told her and Duncan the same story I’ve just told you.
About the time we were done, Broxholm and Kreeblim returned. “The Council will see you now,” said Kreeblim, her nose waving in front of her.
Nervous, excited, terrified, we followed them through the transcendental elevator to the room where the images of eight aliens were waiting to give us our instructions.
There was something different about the chamber this time. Floating in the center of it was a huge, holographic image of the earth. Think of the globe you have in your classroom. Now imagine it eight feet across, created in perfect detail.
I felt Susan’s hand slip into mine. “It’s so beautiful,” she whispered.
I didn’t say anything. From out in space, the planet was beautiful. But I knew what was happening back on the surface, what people were doing to each other.
What would happen to us when we went back down there? Could we find some way to convince the aliens not to destroy it?
Suddenly, I realized Duncan was standing close to me. To my surprise, he slipped his arm around my shoulder. “We can do it, Peter,” he whispered.
I nodded, still staring at the image before us, the image of Earth, the planet I had abandoned, and now must try to save.
My home.
About the Author
and Illustrator
Bruce Coville has written dozens of books for young readers, including My Teacher Is an Alien, My Teacher Fried My Brains, Monster of the Year, and the Camp Haunted Hills books, How I Survived My Summer Vacation, Some of My Best Friends Are Monsters, and The Dinosaur That Followed Me Home. He grew up in central New York, where he’s lived most of his life. Before becoming a full-time writer, Bruce Coville worked as a magazine editor, a teacher, a toymaker, and a gravedigger. He currently lives in Manhattan.
John Pierard is best known for his illustrations for Isaac Asimov’s Science Fiction Magazine, Distant Stars, and several books in the Time Machine series. He has most recently illustrated My Babysitter Is a Vampire and My Teacher Fried My Brains. He lives in Manhattan.
Copyright © 1991, 2000 General Licensing Co., Inc.
This text converted to eBook format for the Mobipocket Reader.
Bruce Coville, My Teacher Glows in the Dark
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