Chapter Twenty-Six – The Final Push
“Gavin,” said Carrie, “do you speak oootoon?”
“It is one of my languages, yes.”
“Great. That means we have at least one translator and you. Dave, look for my translator. It must have fallen out of my pocket with the neutraliser when we were running. We’ve got to talk to the oootoon in each box and make it understand there are virtually no placktoids on board, but that if it crashes into the planet it’ll be killing four innocent civilians.”
“Do you really think it cares?” said Belinda.
“Yes, I do, actually. Or enough of it does, anyway, that it’ll try and do something to save us if it can. Providing we can get the message into it.”
Wrinkling her nose, Belinda said, “And how do you propose to do that?”
“We’re going to talk to each box of oootoon. Because the contents are separated by their containers from the rest of the oootoon, they’ll be much easier to communicate with. When the contained oootoon understands the message, we’ll push it to the hatchway, open the box and tip it into the bulge so that it mixes in with the oootoon surrounding the ship. We just need to add enough oootoon that understands our predicament to tip the scales. It won’t let us die if it can help it. I’m sure of it.”
“Well, I’m certainly not going to help on this foolhardy task,” said Belinda. “I don’t want to spend my last moments speaking with—”
“May I suggest you begin pushing boxes towards the hatchway, Transgalactic Intercultural Community Crisis Liaison Officer Markham?” said Gavin.
Belinda pursed her lips. “I suppose if you’re going to make it an order I will talk to the oootoon, then.”
“No,” replied Gavin. “I sense your attitude in this matter is somewhat half-hearted. I believe Carrie’s unauthorised companion, Dave, will be far more effective at making the oootoon understand. Please either assist him in locating the second translator or move the boxes so that they are ready for adding to the larger oootoon mass.”
Glaring, Belinda marched to the nearest intact box and began pushing, her feet slipping on the wet floor.
“Found it,” exclaimed Dave, who had been scanning around for Carrie’s translator. He picked up the dripping instrument.
Carrie, Dave and Gavin wasted no time in talking to the oootoon inside each box, but the process seemed to take forever. First they had to attract its attention, then they had to explain why it was separated from the greater mass and where it was—most of the captured oootoon had no idea what had happened to it—and finally they had to ask it to spread the word among the oootoon outside. It had to understand the placktoids had left and there were innocent people who were going to die if the ship crashed.
The smell of caramalised custard grew stronger. Carrie’s heart sank at the thought of the oootoon burning on the edges of the blob as it sped towards the planet, and also at the fact that none of this would matter to her very, very soon.
As they added more and more of the captured oootoon to the bulge, she didn’t bother checking the general sentiment of the larger oootoon enclosing the ship. If her plan wasn’t working there was nothing she could do about it. They were out of options and time, and if she had failed and they were about to perish, she would rather keep busy in this last futile attempt than sit and wait patiently for death to take her.
Belinda wouldn’t have been able to move all the converted boxes to the hatchway by herself even if she was trying her hardest, which she wasn’t. The other three joined in, pushing the heavy containers across the sticky floor at the same time as talking to their contents. Carrie realised that, despite her confidence and background, Belinda wasn’t actually very bright. If she really thought the attempt was futile, why was she still following Gavin’s orders?
When released, the captured oootoon flowed quickly and easily into the larger mass. Even joyfully, Carrie thought. It warmed her heart to see it set free.
The spaceship jerked and Carrie staggered. She wiped sweat from her eyes. As well as the exertion of pushing the boxes to the oootoon bulge warming her, the air temperature was becoming unbearably hot.
We must have hardly any time left. In fact, they had probably run out of time ages ago. How could the oootoon possibly lift the massive accelerating spaceship out of its plummeting descent? She expected at any moment there would be a deafening crash and everything would go black. She wondered whether there was an afterlife and what it was like. She hoped she would see Dave there, and maybe one day, though not too soon, Toodles and Rogue.
Dave caught her eye with a sad look. He seemed to have come to the same realisation as herself. They must be speeding through the atmosphere so quickly now that, even if her plan succeeded and they managed to convey to the outer oootoon that they were inside, their fate was sealed.
There was a grinding, wrenching sound. Carrie stopped pushing her box, her brow wrinkling. It wasn’t the kind of sound she expected from an impact with a planet at hundreds of kilometres per hour. The noise had come from the corner of the room, where the placktoid commander was embedded in the wall. The shredder.
With a deafening screech, it broke free and reversed a quarter of the length of the bay. Not again. The machine ground forward, then stopped, then jerked forward again, and stopped. The oootoon inside it was still trying its best to jam the thing but it was regaining control, moving farther forward each time. Dave, Gavin, and Belinda were watching it, too.
“Time for another game of chase,” called Dave.
Swinging a circle, the alien edged closer and closer to face them. Carrie and the others began to move to the side of the entrance bay. Avoiding the manic machine was easy enough, but Carrie was tired, so tired. Her arms and legs ached from pushing the heavy boxes, and her head ached from talking with the multi-voiced oootoon. She wasn’t sure she had the strength or the willpower to run from the commander again. Maybe Belinda was right. What was the point?
The placktoid faced them, its metal-toothed face crushed and twisted from impacts with walls and boxes of oootoon it had smashed. It looked like a massive car grille that had been through a crusher. The engine revved, louder and louder. It had freed itself from the clogging oootoon, and its sound was now clear and sharp. The caterpillar treads remained still as the engine gathered speed. When Carrie thought the engines couldn’t growl louder, and she covered her ears, the shredder shot forward like a greyhound from the starting gate.
Then came the deafening crash.