6th Grade Alien - There's An Alien In My Backpack Part 2

"WHY?".

"Your Fatherly One suggested it might be better if you and that Tompkins boy were not in such constant communication. He fears you make a bad combination."

I farted in disgust and stalked away. I could not believe the Fatherly One was trying to cut me off from my best friend in this way. So perhaps I was not in the most rational state of mind when I went to one of the emba.s.sy's Earth-style phones to call Tim. If I had been, I might have been more cautious when he picked up the receiver at his end and cried, "Pleskit! Thank goodness it's you! I need you to get over here, quick! We've got a ... situation."

"What kind of situation?" I asked nervously.

"I can't explain. I just need to see you. Quick!"

CHAPTER.

5 [PLESKIT].

Ethical Confusion I was torn by Tim's call. I did not want to get into a situation that would cost us the chance to become the richest family in the galaxy. But when a friend calls for help, what kind of friend are you if you don't go?

Confused and troubled, I went to seek McNally, whom I needed to find before I could go to Tim's anyway.

My bodyguard was not in his room, and I was worried that he had not yet returned from getting his coffee. Since there had been no plans for going out that afternoon, he was technically off duty. Had he gone to see one of his lady friends? I wondered if he might be visiting Ms. Weintraub. Hehad brought her to the big emba.s.sy party that had ended up with Tim, Maktel, Linnsy, and me getting accidentally s.n.a.t.c.hed from Earth.

I burped an information request into the box mounted next to McNally's door.

After a brief humming sound the box said, "Mr. McNally is currently in the presence of your Venerated Ancestor, Ventraah Komquist."

I hurried back to the Grandfatherly One's chambers. Eargon Fooz had left. McNally was sitting at a small table, a cardboard cup filled with coffee on the floor next to him. He and my Venerated Ancestor were playing an earthling game called checkers.

"Back so soon, sproutling?" said the Grand-fatherly One.

"I need to speak to my bodyguard."

"Well, speak," said the Grandfatherly One. "Nothing you should be saying to him that I shouldn't be able to hear."

I was beginning to feel a distinct lack of privacy.

"I have had an emergency message from Tim," I said. "He urgently requests our presence at his apartment."

"Aw, geez, Pleskit," said McNally. "Your Fatherly One just got done asking us to stay out of trouble!"

"I did not go looking for trouble," I replied. "It seems to have found me on its own. Actually, I am not even certain we should go."

"Abandon a friend in time of need, and you can stop coming to visit me," said the Grandfatherly One sharply.

"But you know the Fatherly One's wishes," I said, feeling confused.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah.Well, we don't always get what we wish for, do we? I already told you, your Fatherly One is getting a little out of control. Now, pack me up and let's get going." "Pack you up?" asked McNally nervously.

"You heard me," snapped the Grandfatherly One. "I'm going with you. Come on, let's get a move on."

McNally still hesitated.

"Tim did sound most perturbed," I said.

McNally sighed. "I may be risking my job here."

"That's why I want you to bring me along," said the Grandfatherly One. "My presence will give you a degree of coverage for your actions. Think of me as a living insurance policy."

"But you're dead," I pointed out.

"Don't be such aseekl-fingus," snapped the Grandfatherly One. "You understand the point."

"I guess so," said McNally, though he didn't sound entirely convinced.

It took us a few minutes to transfer the Grandfatherly One's brain into the Brain Transport Device.A few minutes after that we were heading down the tube to the garage where the limousine is parked.

Ralph-the-Driver looked slightly startled when he saw McNally carrying the Grandfatherly One. But he didn't say anything. He never does.

We piled into the limousine, and Ralph drove us to Tim's apartment building.

"Thank goodness you're here!" said Tim when we showed up at his door. "Hey, you brought the Grandfatherly One! Cool!"

The Grandfatherly One extended the speaking tubes from his BTD. "Greetings, Earthling whippersnapper," he said."Nice to see you again. Now, what's this little emergency you've got on your hands?"

Tim pointed to a nice-looking boy standing in the kitchen doorway. He seemed to be about our age, though he was a little taller than either of us.

"What's his problem?" asked McNally suspiciously.

Tim leaned closer and said softly, "He's not an Earthling."

"Uh-oh," said the Grandfatherly One. He turned his viewing devices directly toward the boy. "That's a pretty big claim, youngster. You ready to prove it?"

The boy bit his lip, then said, "I think it's time I showed you my true face."

"Dang it!" cried Tim."When I said something about taking your face off, you accused me of being overly dramatic!" "It's not my face I'm going to take off," said the boy. He walked over to the dining-room table and stopped in front of it, standing with his back to it. Then he stripped off his s.h.i.+rt.

"What's he going to do?" muttered Tim nervously. "Show us some weird alien body part?"

Before I could answer, the boy stopped cold, freezing as if he had turned into one of those dummies the Earthlings use to display clothing in their department stores.

"Has he gone intokleptra?" Tim asked nervously.

"Wait a second," I said, holding up a hand andfarting the fart of nervousness. "Keep watching."

We heard a hissing from the boy's body.

McNally stepped up next to me and moved into a protective stance. "He's not going to explode or anything, is he?" he asked tensely.

"Admirable to be on your guard, McNally," said the Grandfatherly One. "But it's nothing like that. Even so, you'd better be the first one to go around back."

"Around back?" askedMcNally.

"Back of the kid," said the Grandfatherly One, sounding exasperated.

Moving cautiously, McNally walked around to the other side of the table, so he was standing behind Beebo. Tim and I followed him.

"Great galloping galaxies," I whispered as a small door swung down from the boy's bare back. "He was wearing a body suit!"

The door stretched down until it touched the table, forming a kind of ramp. The surface-the part that had beeninside the boy-was covered with what looked like circuits.

A cloud of steam, or smoke, or something puffed out from the opening. Then a small orange face appeared in the doorway.

CHAPTER 6.

[TIM].

The Stranding of Beebo Ducking, but only a little, because he was no more than two feet tall, the alien climbed out of the now frozen body. He had a turned-up nose and oversized dark eyes and was so cute that it was hard not to go "Awwww" as soon as you saw him.

"Greetings!" he said. "My name is Beebo. Beebo Frimbat, Prince of Roogbat!"

Three antennae grew in a triangular formation on Beebo's head-one front and center, the other two about halfway back. An odd combination of hair and scales came forward around the central antenna to make a pair of points that ended just above his eyebrows.

Beebo's ears were oversized, too, and slightly pointy. His feet were somewhat birdlike, with two toes in front and one in back-something you could see because his soft leather "boots" were open front and back to let the toes stick out.

He walked slowly down the ramp. Once he was standing on the table, he made a sweeping bow.

"Are you really a prince?" asked Pleskit..

"I most certainly am!" said Beebo, drawing himself up to his full height-which still wouldn't have brought him anywhere near my waist if he had been standing on the floor.

"You look sort of like an elf," I said."Or maybe an elf from outer s.p.a.ce."

Part of the reason for this was his costume, a two-piece outfit that looked like it belonged to some fantasy forest creature.

"Cuteness is a virtue," Beebo replied, stretching so hard that his joints made little popping sounds.

"Wowza-yoicks! It feels good to get out of that suit. I was really cramped in there!"

"What are you doing here?" asked the Grandfatherly One.

"Here with you or here on Earth?" he asked.

"Both!"

"It's a long story." "Better start talking," growled McNally.

Since it seemed easier to let Beebo stay where he was, the rest of us sat down at the table, which made sort of a stage for him. Putting his hands behind his back, he began to pace, stepping over the salt and pepper shakers, walking around the napkin holder. Finally he sat down on a stack of my textbooks.

"It started as a school project," he said.

"What kind of school do you go to?" I asked in surprise.

"Oh, it's a lovely school! We have a lot of laughter. That's our school motto: 'Life is a joke, and then you die.' Anyway, one of the things we have to do to graduate is study humor on other planets. Well, that and figure out how to survive while we're visiting that planet. Our elders believe that learning to survive in a primitive and hostile environment furthers our journey to maturity."

"Maturity's not all it's cracked up to be," muttered the Grandfatherly One.

"Sharp, but only moderately funny," said Beebo. "I give it a three."

"On a scale of what?" demanded the Grandfatherly One.

Beebo grinned, which was so cute it made you want to smile just seeing it."One to fifty. One is about equal to a small twitch at the corner of the mouth. Fifty is when you laugh so hard you die and return to the arms of the Great Jester who made us all."

"Whippersnapper," muttered the Grandfatherly One.

"Why don't you just get on with the story?" said McNally.

Beebo looked uncomfortable. "When the supervisors drop us off, they are supposed to monitor our survival. They want us to be tested, but they prefer that we notdie, an event that tends to distress a parental unit. However, my supervisors have disappeared! I went to the pickup site, and they did not show up. That was nearly two weeks ago. I have tried all the normal methods of contacting them, with no success. During that time I have been making my way toSyracuse in hopes that I might contact Pleskit. I had read about him, and I hoped he might be willing to help me. But the emba.s.sy is very securelyguarded. It was not easy to get to you, Pleskit. That was why I accosted Tim in the park today."

"Well, I'm glad you finally reached me," said Pleskit soothingly. "We'll take you straight back to the emba.s.sy. The Fatherly One will have this solved in less than a day."

Beebo looked alarmed, and a complicated series of expressions flitted across his face. I could identify guilt, fear, shame, and sorrow. It is likely there were other feelings being expressed as well, ones I was not aware of, since Pleskit has told me that many species have emotions unique to themselves.

"Please don't!" he cried in horror. "I can't go to the emba.s.sy. Please, please don't make me do that!"

With those big eyes and that charming face, when Beebo looked so distraught you wanted to do everything you could to make things better. He looked like a kitten that had just lost its mother.

"What is the problem?" asked Pleskit, looking baffled.

Beebo glanced around nervously then whispered, "Roogbat is a nontrading planet."

"Uh-oh," said the Grandfatherly One.

"What does that have to do with anything?" I asked.

"Beebo's planet is not recognized by the Trading Federation," said the Grandfatherly One. "Therefore, the emba.s.sy is prohibited from helping him. In fact, if Pleskit's Fatherly One were to become aware that Beebo is here on Earth, he would be honor-bound to turn the boy over to the Trading Federation for disciplinary action."

McNally looked at the Grandfatherly One curiously. "Don't you have the same obligation, sir?"

The Grandfatherly One just laughed. "One of the few benefits of being dead is that I am no longer bound by foolish restrictions. Neither are you, McNally, in case you were wondering, since Earth is not yet a member of the Federation." He swung his viewing tubes and speaking extensions toward Beebo. "But you have something to explain, sproutling- namely, what in the name of the Seven Moons of Skatwag possessed your advisers to bring you to Earth if your own world is not part of the Trading Federation?"