War on Whimsy (Space Brigade 3)

The king yawned enormously."Surely they know all about Whimsy? What are they teaching them in school these days?"

XYZ40 cleared her throat. "Ah, your majesty, apart from Shimlara, the members of the Space Brigade are Earthlings. It's my understanding that most Earthlings have little or no awareness of the existence of life on other planets."

"Silly creatures," said the king.

"The Planet of Whimsy is quite a different kettle of fish from Volcomania," said XYZ40. A picture of an exquisite lake appeared on the screen.

"I won't belabor the point, but it's simply the most beautiful planet in the universe." XYZ40 clicked through a number of pictures, each one more stunning than the last. Nicola felt like her eyes were being assaulted by beauty. She couldn't describe the feeling it gave her. It was like she'd just listened to a type of music she'd never heard before and it had touched her soul.

"Ah," moaned Nicola and Katie at the same time, as the last slide disappeared.

XYZ40 narrowed her eyes at them. "I see that you two are susceptible to Whimsy's beauty. Arty types, are you?" She said the word arty as if it were something vaguely disgusting.

"I like to write stories sometimes," admitted Nicola.

"I play the cello a little," said Katie. (Nicola knew she was being modest. Katie was actually a very talented cellist, although she was shy about performing in public.)

"You two will have to be extra careful on Whimsy," said XYZ40.

"So we're going to Whimsy, then?" said Shimlara. "To rescue my family?"

"I am getting to that," said XYZ40.

A new slide appeared on the screen. It showed a group of people lying in a meadow. They all had long wispy hair, rosy faces, and dreamy expressions. Some of them were holding flowers. Others were staring in blissful wonder at the sky.

"The people of Whimsy are the most artistic in the universe," said XYZ40. "The landscape seems to inspire them. They write symphonies and plays. They paint. They sculpt. They sing. They're really very talented. Unfortunately, they're also somewhat . . ."

"Hopeless," supplied the king.

"Yes," admitted XYZ40."They're incredibly absentminded. They're not at all practical. They don't grow crops even though the soil would be perfect for it, and they have no business sense whatsoever. They're always running out of food, and sending messages to Volcomania asking for urgent supplies. Up until now, the Volcomanian government has put up with this. In fact, being an entrepreneurial type of people, they've tended to exploit it. In return for supplying bread and milk, they demand that the Whimsians hand over their paintings or sculptures. Then they sell them around the galaxy for huge profits."

"I've said it before and I'll say it again, those Whimsians all need to be packed off to business school," said the king.

"I think I remember Mom and Dad talking about a Whimsian painting that's now worth a billion bars of gold," said Shimlara. "The person who painted it sold it to a Volcomanian for a ham sandwich."

"So why has Volcomania declared war on the Planet of Whimsy?" asked Tyler. "It seems like they've got a pretty good arrangement going."

"Volcomania has a new president," said XYZ40. A picture appeared on the screen of a Volcomanian woman in a crisp business suit. If it wasn't for her scaly skin, she might have been quite attractive.

"Mrs. Mary Ellen Mania," said XYZ40."After winning the presidency, Mrs. Mania gave a very persuasive speech about how the Planet of Whimsy was actually part of Volcomanian territory and should be under their rule. She sent in the troops the following week. Once Whimsy surrenders and is under Volcomanian rule, she wants the people to work in artistic factories where they'll have a certain quota of paintings or symphonies to produce every week. They'll receive a wage and according to Mrs. Mania, they can 'finally start to act like grown-ups.' No more lying around in meadows staring at the sky. Also, they'll have to start farming on the weekends."

"Oh, those poor people," said Katie.

"Is the Planet of Whimsy fighting back?" asked Sean.

"Well,

they're very upset but, the thing is, they're not actually very good at war. They don't have an army. In fact, they didn't even have a president. They'd forgotten to reelect one after the last president resigned. When the war began, they very hurriedly put this man in charge."

A picture appeared of a fair-haired man wearing a beret and a paint-splattered smock.

"This is Henry Sweet," said XYZ40. "He's a very good artist, but a terrible president. Not surprisingly, Volcomania is currently winning the War on Whimsy. The only reason they haven't managed to wrap it up in under a week is because of the time it takes to transport weapons, troops, and provisions through the Underground Sea. They've had to leave many of their bigger cannons and tanks behind because they can't fit them through the sea. Here is some of the damage the Volcomanian army has done so far."

Picture after picture of terrible sights appeared on the screen.

A meadow of flowers crushed by the heavy black boots of the Volcomanian army.

Beautiful sculptures riddled with bullet holes.