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Authors: Michael Broad
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something!’
‘Why is everything so dirty?’ asked Montague, pulling a face as he examined his paw-pads.
‘Because it’s a spaceship full of greasy engines!’ said Butch.
‘And space-dust gets everywhere!’ laughed Poppy.
asked Rocket, who was used to new recruits being amazed and excited. ‘Any questions you’d like to ask us?’
‘When are we going home?’ huffed the poodle. ‘Unlike you lot, I have a new family coming to collect me in the morning and I don’t want to disappoint them by being late .
. . or even worse, being untidy!’
‘We’ll have you back in time,’ sighed Rocket. ‘I promise.’
‘So while you’re here you might as well let your hair down and have some fun,’ said Poppy, spinning around in her pilot seat. ‘Don’t you ever just want to dig in
the dirt and get messy sometimes?’
‘No’ said the poodle. ‘I prefer to stay clean and presentable.’
‘Why?’ asked Butch, who had no such ambition and dribbled down his front as if to prove it.
‘Because getting dirty is what landed me in the Pooch Pound in the first place!’ snapped Montague. ‘I didn’t win my last dog show, because I had a speck of mud on my paw,
and the following day my master got rid of me.’
‘We’re sorry to hear that, Monty,’ said Rocket, trying to comfort the poodle. ‘But you should know that most humans expect their dogs to get mucky from time to time, and
it doesn’t change how much they love them.’
‘How would
you
know?’ sniffed the poodle, settling down on his blanket where he could sleep and stay clean. ‘And please don’t call me Monty. My proper pedigree
title is Lord Montague Pompidou the Third!’
The Spacemutts stifled their smirks and were about to get together to discuss the best way to help the posh poodle overcome his fear of filth when red lights began flashing in the ship and the
alert siren sounded through the speakers.
Rocket quickly jumped back to the central hub and silenced the alarm. ‘What is it, WOOF?’ he asked, flicking on the monitor and scanning the local star map as it appeared on the
screen.
‘I’m picking up a very large object making its way through our solar system,’ said WOOF, zooming in on its past locations. ‘It is growing in size and on its present
course it’s heading straight for planet Earth.’
‘But I scanned all of the spy-bone satellite data,’ said Rocket, flicking through the printouts. ‘There was no sign of Fluffkins’s
Mouseship
or any other craft
within our solar system. Where has it come from?’
‘The spy-bones will only alert us if a ship or some other mechanical device enters our airspace,’ WOOF explained. ‘But this object seems to be entirely organic. It’s
gobbling up asteroids along the way and growing bigger and faster at an alarming rate.’
‘Can you get a visual on it?’ asked Rocket.
‘Negative, Captain. It’s moving too fast for our closed-circuit cameras to snap it,’ said WOOF, displaying an image of a starry sky with a brown blur streaking through the
middle. ‘This is the best shot I could find.’
The Spacemutts all frowned at the fuzzy brown streak and tilted their heads as they tried to work it out. No one had a clue what it could be and looked to the captain to decide upon the best
course of action.
‘We have to go and see this thing with our own eyes,’ said Rocket, calculating the current size and path of the object. ‘Butch, fire up the light-speed engines. I’m
plotting its predicted course so we should be able to head the thing off halfway.’
‘If it’s growing in size and increasing in speed, it will be dangerous flying when we get there,’ said Poppy, gauging the gravity pull of an object that size.
said Rocket, bounding to the cockpit with the estimated coordinates. ‘I know you can do it, Poppy.’
‘Light-speed prepped and beginning the countdown,’ barked Butch, adjusting the final valve among the rattling engines. ‘And
‘Why is everything so dirty?’ asked Montague, pulling a face as he examined his paw-pads.
‘Because it’s a spaceship full of greasy engines!’ said Butch.
‘And space-dust gets everywhere!’ laughed Poppy.
asked Rocket, who was used to new recruits being amazed and excited. ‘Any questions you’d like to ask us?’
‘When are we going home?’ huffed the poodle. ‘Unlike you lot, I have a new family coming to collect me in the morning and I don’t want to disappoint them by being late .
. . or even worse, being untidy!’
‘We’ll have you back in time,’ sighed Rocket. ‘I promise.’
‘So while you’re here you might as well let your hair down and have some fun,’ said Poppy, spinning around in her pilot seat. ‘Don’t you ever just want to dig in
the dirt and get messy sometimes?’
‘No’ said the poodle. ‘I prefer to stay clean and presentable.’
‘Why?’ asked Butch, who had no such ambition and dribbled down his front as if to prove it.
‘Because getting dirty is what landed me in the Pooch Pound in the first place!’ snapped Montague. ‘I didn’t win my last dog show, because I had a speck of mud on my paw,
and the following day my master got rid of me.’
‘We’re sorry to hear that, Monty,’ said Rocket, trying to comfort the poodle. ‘But you should know that most humans expect their dogs to get mucky from time to time, and
it doesn’t change how much they love them.’
‘How would
you
know?’ sniffed the poodle, settling down on his blanket where he could sleep and stay clean. ‘And please don’t call me Monty. My proper pedigree
title is Lord Montague Pompidou the Third!’
The Spacemutts stifled their smirks and were about to get together to discuss the best way to help the posh poodle overcome his fear of filth when red lights began flashing in the ship and the
alert siren sounded through the speakers.
Rocket quickly jumped back to the central hub and silenced the alarm. ‘What is it, WOOF?’ he asked, flicking on the monitor and scanning the local star map as it appeared on the
screen.
‘I’m picking up a very large object making its way through our solar system,’ said WOOF, zooming in on its past locations. ‘It is growing in size and on its present
course it’s heading straight for planet Earth.’
‘But I scanned all of the spy-bone satellite data,’ said Rocket, flicking through the printouts. ‘There was no sign of Fluffkins’s
Mouseship
or any other craft
within our solar system. Where has it come from?’
‘The spy-bones will only alert us if a ship or some other mechanical device enters our airspace,’ WOOF explained. ‘But this object seems to be entirely organic. It’s
gobbling up asteroids along the way and growing bigger and faster at an alarming rate.’
‘Can you get a visual on it?’ asked Rocket.
‘Negative, Captain. It’s moving too fast for our closed-circuit cameras to snap it,’ said WOOF, displaying an image of a starry sky with a brown blur streaking through the
middle. ‘This is the best shot I could find.’
The Spacemutts all frowned at the fuzzy brown streak and tilted their heads as they tried to work it out. No one had a clue what it could be and looked to the captain to decide upon the best
course of action.
‘We have to go and see this thing with our own eyes,’ said Rocket, calculating the current size and path of the object. ‘Butch, fire up the light-speed engines. I’m
plotting its predicted course so we should be able to head the thing off halfway.’
‘If it’s growing in size and increasing in speed, it will be dangerous flying when we get there,’ said Poppy, gauging the gravity pull of an object that size.
said Rocket, bounding to the cockpit with the estimated coordinates. ‘I know you can do it, Poppy.’
‘Light-speed prepped and beginning the countdown,’ barked Butch, adjusting the final valve among the rattling engines. ‘And
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