Archie's Alien Disguise Page 2

  Pockets and I share a disappointed look, but I guess I can see his point.

  “That’s the way into town,” Pockets says, pointing to a road leading away from the clearing. The goggles make everything look shades of red, but I can see almost as well as in daytime. He checks his screen. “The princess was last seen about a mile away. That’s where we’ll start searching in the morning. For now let’s move the car as close to the woods as possible.”

  “Will do,” Dad says, climbing back in. A few seconds later the car makes a whirring sound, followed by a chugging sound.

  He tries again. Now a high-pitched whine fills the air. It sounds even squeakier than Minerva the mouse from headquarters.

  Dad climbs back out. “Something must have gotten damaged when we landed,” he says. He lies down on his back and slides under the car. A few minutes later he comes out, wiping grease and dirt off his face.

  “I can repair it,” he says, “but it will take a day or two.” He turns to me. “I’ll need to stay with the taxi, Archie. Do you want to go on the mission with Pockets? I know he will protect you. Or you’re welcome to stay with me.”

  I can tell it’s not easy for Dad to give me the choice to go without him. And honestly, my first reaction is to wrap myself around his leg and tell him I’ll stay. But Pockets can’t talk to anyone on this planet. He’ll need me along to help. Plus, I want to see the knights in shining armor and the moats and the castles, and I’d miss all that if I stayed here.

  “I’ll go on the mission, Dad,” I tell him, hoping I sound braver than I feel.

  “That’s the spirit, Archie!” Pockets says, slapping me on the back. “Now, let’s get this car hidden before our cover is blown.”

  Even with Pockets’s mega-strength, it takes a lot of huffing and puffing to roll the taxi across the field to the woods. When we finally get there, Pockets pulls out a skinny metal can. He shakes it and aims the nozzle into the air. A light mist sprays out and coats the entire car. Before I can blink, the car shimmers brightly, then disappears!

  “Where’d the taxi go?” I ask, eyes wide behind my goggles.

  “It’s still here,” Pockets says. “You can touch it.”

  “Really?” I reach out my hand and slowly lean in. Sure enough, my hand touches the still-warm hood. “Wow! What is that stuff?”

  “It’s called Camo-It-Now.” He tucks the can away. “It makes whatever you spray blend into the background.”

  I run my hand over the invisible car. This is so cool! I could do this all night!

  “Come,” Pockets says, as though reading my mind. “I suggest we all get some sleep. I’ll wake you at dawn.”

  In less than a minute, Pockets has set up two inflatable mattresses with sleeping bags on them. He waits until I take off my goggles and climb into one of them, and then he curls up at the bottom.

  “You are one handy cat to have around,” Dad says, fluffing his pillow. But Pockets is already purring in his sleep and doesn’t hear.

  Dad’s own snores soon join in. I stare into the night sky. Without any lights or pollution, the stars in this galaxy are so bright. I can’t see the constellations I know from home. No Big Dipper or Orion’s Belt. That’s the last thought I have before Pockets jumps on my chest and says, “Rise and shine, young Morningstar!”

  “Oomph!” I push him off. “Really, Pockets? Don’t you know how much you weigh?”

  Pockets jumps on Dad next. “Five more minutes,” he mumbles.

  “No can do!” Pockets says, sounding way too cheery for this early hour. I sit up, still groggy. The sun is just beginning to rise. It looks a lot like Earth’s sun, maybe a little bigger.

  “We’ve got to turn you into aliens,” Pockets says, “then find the princess and keep the king from handing over the Staff of Power. All before breakfast!”

  Dad and I climb out of our sleeping bags and stretch.

  Pockets fiddles with something that looks like a television remote, but I’m pretty sure it’s not. “Now stand still,” he says. “This won’t hurt a bit.”

  Before I even finish yawning, a buzzing runs through my body, followed by a not-so-gentle tugging. It’s as though my arms and legs are being pulled in different directions. I try to talk, but my mouth won’t move. I look to Dad for help, but Dad doesn’t look like Dad anymore! I mean, I can still tell it’s him, but instead of his brown hair and the goatee on his chin, he is bald with a bushy green beard. He also has three large eyes, all in a row. And is that…? Yup! A third arm has sprouted below his left one.

  And did I mention he’s wearing a dress?

  “Archie! Is that you?” Dad blinks.

  “It’s me, Dad!” I wave my arms. Thankfully I have only two, but they seem longer than they used to. When I rest them at my sides, they reach my knees!

  “Why don’t I have three arms, too?” I ask.

  “People here don’t grow them until they’re adults,” Pockets explains.

  Dad reaches for his face with his extra arm. He gives a little gasp when he finds the third eye between his other two. I suddenly realize I can see things to my left and right that I should only be able to see by turning my head! “Do I have three eyes, too?” I ask him.

  “You sure do,” Dad says. “And long orange hair.” I can tell he’s trying not to laugh. “Maybe you should braid it to keep it off your face,” he suggests.

  I swing my head from side to side. My hair reaches past my shoulders! I like to keep my hair on the longer side, but this is crazy!

  “That must be how boys wear it here,” Pockets says. “The Atom Assembler is programmed to keep up with the local customs.”

  Dad looks down at his legs. “Is that why I’m wearing this dress?”

  Pockets chuckles, then shakes his head. “That’s awkward. Let me fix my error.”

  He adjusts a knob on the assembler. Dad’s legs jerk a bit, and suddenly he’s wearing long brown pants, like the ones I have on.

  Dad looks down, relieved. Then his hand flies up to his head. He finally realizes his hair is gone. Dad is very proud of his hair. “It’ll grow back, right?” he asks Pockets in a panicky voice.

  “You will return to normal at the end of our mission,” Pockets promises, tucking the assembler into a pocket. “Now we really must be on our way.”

  Dad pulls me aside. “Listen to what Pockets tells you,” he says. “And don’t go off on your own. We don’t know the rules here.”

  “Okay.” This will be the first time I’ve been on an alien world without Dad for longer than a few minutes. He gives me a three-armed hug, which feels weird but not altogether bad.

  Chapter Five:

  That Is the Biggest Cat I Have Ever Seen

  We head down the road toward the village. “Remember,” Pockets says, “when we get to town I’ll have to pretend to be your pet. I will stay close and whisper instructions. Don’t talk to anyone or attract too much attention.”

  “I won’t,” I promise.

  By the time we get into town, the main square is filling with men and women setting up booths to sell food and clothes. If it weren’t for all the extra eyes and arms, I’d feel as if I’d stepped back in time on Earth.

  Pockets is winding in and out of my legs like a regular cat. He whispers, “The last signal we got from our undercover officer came from a farmhouse on the other side of the town square. That will be our first stop.”

  I nod as we begin to cross the square. No one gives us a second glance. My disguise must be working!

  Two boys—both with three eyes and long hair the same green as Dad’s beard—run out of a house across the lane. They begin tossing a ball between them. One misses and the ball rolls right to my feet. I pick it up. It’s made of wood, and very rough. The boys run over, and I hold it out to them. It makes me miss playing baseball with my friends at home. I haven’t seen them very much lately.

  “That is the biggest cat I have ever seen!” the older boy says, ignoring the ball. “Much bigger than the ones at the ha
unted castle by the river.”

  Haunted castle? That doesn’t sound like a fun place to hang out.

  The boy bends down beside Pockets. “Might my brother and I pet him?” he asks.

  “Um, okay,” I say. So much for not talking to anyone!

  Pockets growls, and the boy stops, his hand outstretched.

  “Pockets!” I say, like I’m scolding a real pet. “Not nice.”

  Pockets glares up at me before lowering his head so the kids can pet him.

  “So soft!” the younger boy says, stroking Pockets on the head. The older one starts scratching Pockets under the neck. After a few seconds Pockets actually starts purring!

  “Why does he have a circle of green around his tail?” the younger brother asks.

  “Um…” I say, trailing off. I can’t tell them the truth—that laser beams shoot out of it!

  “Would you like to join our game?” the older one asks.

  “Really? Thanks!”

  Pockets stops purring and nudges me hard in the leg. The boys start explaining the rules. Pockets is working himself into a frenzy, turning in circles and pawing at the ground.

  The boys look at him, concerned. “I think something is wrong with your cat,” the younger one says. “That happened to ours right before he coughed up half a mouse.”

  Pockets makes a coughing-choking sound, and the boys scamper backward.

  “Guess I’d better go take care of him,” I tell them. “Nice meeting you!”

  Pockets takes off across the square, and I run after him. He doesn’t slow down until we reach a big red farmhouse on the outskirts of town, right where he said the ISF guard had disappeared.

  I sit down and rest against the wall of a wooden storage shed.

  “We must hurry to find the undercover guard,” Pockets says, looking back down at his tracking device. “Where did he go after leaving this spot?”

  “I don’t think he went anywhere. Come listen.” I wave him over to the shed, and we press our ears against the side.

  “Snoring!” Pockets exclaims. He steps back and crouches low to the ground. Then he springs into the air, arches his back, and lands on the ledge of a small window. He swishes his tail around until it’s in front of him, unhinges the tip, and uses the laser beam to melt a large hole in the glass. With a satisfied glance, he squeezes in.

  I, however, use the door that is about a foot away from the window. And not locked. When I step inside, he says, “Well sure, anyone could get in that way.”

  The small shed holds only three things—a bale of hay, a broken wheelbarrow, and the sleeping ISF officer with his back against the far wall.

  “He’s a cat!” I say in surprise. He looks like a bigger, grizzlier Pockets. He’s definitely seen some action.

  “Why are you surprised?” Pockets asks.

  “You said there are ISF branches in every galaxy, so I figured he would be a different kind of alien.”

  “That makes sense,” Pockets says. “But the best of the best are from Friskopolus.” He says this last part with obvious pride. He bends down beside the giant cat. “This is Hector. He was in training with my dad. Good officer. A little grumpy.”

  “But if he was undercover as an alien, why is he back in his cat form?” I ask.

  Pockets looks around and points to a yellow-tipped dart lying next to Hector. “Aha! Sleep serum! It reversed the Atom Assembler’s changes. Perhaps he left us a clue before the serum took hold.”

  He whips out two of his huge magnifying glasses and says, “Look for anything unusual.”

  “Like this?” I ask, holding my magnifying glass over a patch of dust next to Hector’s left paw. Spelled out in the dirt are the words GHOST CASTLE.

  “That must be the same place the boys were talking about!”

  “What better place to hide than where everyone is afraid to go?” Pockets says. “Excellent work, ISF deputy Morningstar!”

  “Aw, I just got lucky,” I say. “I saw his paw was stretched out, so I followed it, and there were the letters.”

  “That’s not luck,” Pockets says. “You recognized a clue, and it led to a bigger clue. That’s what a good detective does.” He pulls out a blanket and lays it over Hector. Then he tucks a small green teddy bear under the giant cat’s arm. “That’ll give him a chuckle when he wakes up,” Pockets says before hurrying out the door.

  Chapter Six:

  I Didn’t Know Princesses Did That!

  The river is about three miles away, and after mile two I’m hungry and, honestly, a little cranky. I’m tired of pushing the long hair away from my face, where it’s started to stick from sweat. I’ve already snapped at Pockets twice just for pointing out the local plants and flowers. Finally he says, “Here, take this,” and pulls out a paper bag. It’s my snack from Mom! I thought I’d left it in the car.

  “You’re the best, Pockets.” I hungrily chow down on Mom’s famous peanut butter pancakes and slurp the hot chocolate. Much better! We finally reach the castle grounds and are greeted with painted wooden signs.

  STAY AWAY.

  TURN AROUND NOW.

  DON’T EVEN THINK OF GETTING ANY CLOSER.

  The castle walls are a tall, thick gray stone covered in green moss and ivy. The surrounding garden is full of dead plants and withered vines. It is not a welcoming place.

  Pockets motions for me to join him behind a large tree. From here we can spy on the castle without being seen. Spying is actually a lot less exciting than I thought it would be. Basically, we stare at the old building and wait. I whisper to Pockets, “What’s the point of having three eyes if they don’t do anything cool like see through walls?”

  “Good idea,” he replies. He pulls out a pair of X-ray glasses and peeks around the side of the tree. If you’ve never seen a cat wearing X-ray glasses, it is truly something to behold.

  “These aren’t working,” he says, stashing the glasses away. “That can only mean the X-rays are being blocked. No one from Tri-Dark would be able to do that. B.U.R.P. must be inside.”

  I gulp. Something black darts past us, so close it stirs a little breeze on my legs. “What was that?” I ask, jumping to my feet.

  Suddenly, more shapes come out of the woods. We are surrounded! But not by ghosts or knights or evil B.U.R.P. members.

  We are surrounded by cats! Regular, normal-size cats who don’t talk and don’t carry a carload of stuff inside their fur.

  They stream past us toward the castle. Pockets and I exchange a look, then run after them, careful to stay hidden by the trees. We find the cats pacing and meowing in front of a large wooden door.

  “Someone must be feeding them,” Pockets whispers.

  Cat-loving criminals? That’s a new one.

  Sure enough, a minute later the door creaks open, scraping against the stone floor. An arm shoots out, leaves a bowl of milk, and shoots back inside. It reappears and adds another bowl, this one filled with brown lumps of meat. The cats crowd around, eagerly eating and drinking. The door opens a little further, and a small figure dressed in a black cape steps halfway out and looks around. Pockets and I scoot behind the tree again.

  “Good kitties,” a boy’s voice says softly. “Aren’t you such good kitties? Yes you are, yes you are!”

  We risk another look. A hood covers most of the boy’s face, but from what I can tell, he doesn’t seem to have long bright-colored hair. I can’t see if he has three eyes or not. He takes turns to pet each of the cats, even the ones that have scraggly, tangled fur.

  “This is our chance,” Pockets whispers. “I’ll blend in with the cats, then slip inside while the door’s still open. When it is safe, I will unlock the door and let you in.”

  I look from Pockets to the group of cats and back again. “You don’t look anything like those cats. You may not realize this, but you look—how should I put this?—very well fed.”

  He sucks in his cheeks. “How ’bout now?”

  I laugh. “Nope. You’re still huge.”

&nbs
p; “Maybe he won’t notice,” Pockets says. He lowers himself as far as he can get to the ground without lying down, then slinks toward the castle. Now he looks like a cat pretending to be a snake. Yeah, I’m pretty sure the kid’s gonna notice him.

  The cloaked boy’s back is turned, and for a few seconds Pockets actually does manage to mingle. A few cats sniff the new arrival, but most are too busy eating to notice. A little black cat catches sight of Pockets and starts meowing. Pockets tries to gently bat his admirer away, but he keeps coming back, rubbing up against Pockets’s legs and looking up adoringly. The boy turns to see what is causing the commotion.

  “And who are you?” he asks, bending to scratch Pockets on his head. “I haven’t seen you around here, and you are not easy to miss! You’re very soft. Are you someone’s lost pet?”

  Pockets meows in response, then squeezes between the boy’s legs and pretends to head toward the bowl of milk. The boy turns away, and Pockets darts through the door. The little black cat trots right in after him. A moment later the dishes are empty and the boy returns inside. The cats slowly scatter.

  I run from behind my tree and try the door.

  Locked.

  I lean against the rough stone wall and push the hair away from my face for the hundredth time. Maybe I should have let Dad braid it! Who knows how long it will take Pockets to get me in? Maybe this is one of his tests where he makes me see if I can figure it out by myself. If it is, I don’t want to fail. I look around again. I really am alone here.

  There’s a window about twenty feet above me. I’m going to have to climb the walls by digging my fingers and toes into the little cracks between the stones. I bet my extra-long arms will help make it easier. I take a deep breath, pretend I’m a brave knight on a quest, and slip off my shoes before I can chicken out.

  GASP!

  I only have two toes! And they’re really far apart, like one is where the big toe would go and one is where the pinkie would go. Only these both look like big toes. I flex them and they move, like they’ve always been there. So weird!