War on Whimsy (Space Brigade 3)

"No, they've cut us right off!" said Mrs. Sweet, as if this was a rather fascinating development. "We used the v

ery last scraps of our food to make these desserts."

"Oh no." Nicola put down her spoon. "You shouldn't have! What will you do now?"

"About what?" said Mrs. Sweet sweetly.

"About food?"

"Oh, I'm not at all hungry, thank you. I had an enormous piece of the chocolate meringue."

"Yes, but you will be hungry later, and you'll have nothing to eat."

Mrs. Sweet smiled politely, as if she had absolutely no idea what Nicola was talking about.The concept of planning ahead was obviously completely foreign to her. "Do excuse me," she said. "I just thought of a rather interesting plot twist for my novel."

An hour later, Sean was the only one in the Space Brigade still eating.The rest of them had finally laid down their spoons and joined the Whimsians, who were lying around on picnic blankets watching the stars appear in the evening sky.

It was like watching fine pieces of jewelery laid out on a midnight blue satin cloth. Each star was a different color and shape. There was a soft green oval like an antique brooch; a string of tiny teardrops like a diamond bracelet.

Nicola licked leftover sugar from her fingers and was surprised to find her eyes filling with tears.

"Your planet is so beautiful it hurts my heart," she said to Rosie, the preschool teacher, who was lying next to her.

"I know what you mean," sighed Rosie, pulling her long braid over her shoulder. "Every day when the sun rises, tears of joy stream down my face."

"That's all very well," said Greta, who was sitting up cross-legged on the blanket next to Rosie and Nicola and not even bothering to look at the stars. "But you do realize your planet is at war right now? And you're all just lying around admiring the sky? Your school was bombed today!"

"Greta," sighed Nicola. She thought that Greta was being extremely rude. "Oh! Look at this star! It's like a giant ruby!"

"Shouldn't some of you be guarding the perimeter of your village? Or working out your defense strategies?" continued Greta. "Do you have any strategies at all? You're going to lose this war!"

"I'm sure you're right," said Rosie vaguely. "We have no experience with war. We don't really like war, to be frank."

"Nobody likes war!" said Greta. "But you've still got to fight back!"

"Mmmm," said Rosie. "Do you think we could talk of something more pleasant? That particular topic is making my head ache."

Greta groaned with frustration.

Nicola closed her eyes so she could no longer see the stars. The sensible part of her mind knew that Greta had a point. It would be terrible if the Planet of Whimsy were to lose the war and their independence. It was just so hard to even think about it when everything was so distractingly beautiful.

Anyway, what could they do about it? They weren't here to help Whimsy win the war. They were here to rescue Shimlara's family and that was enough of a challenge.

"Is that the Diamond-Moon?" said Sean from the feast table. It sounded like his mouth was still stuffed full of cake.

Nicola opened her eyes and saw that four silvery moons had appeared in the sky in the shape of a diamond.

She stood up and shook her head vigorously, trying to clear the fuzzy feeling created by all that starlight and sugar. She felt like she needed to eat a straightforward ham sandwich on brown bread and work on a difficult math problem.

"Where is Henry Sweet?" she said, trying to make her voice firm and decisive, rather than soft and dreamy. "It's time we left for Griddlemill."

CHAPTER 23

It was another hour before they finally set off. Nobody had been able to find Henry Sweet. He'd finally been discovered in the studio of his cottage painting a giant canvas bright orange.

"I have an idea for a new painting," he said, with a feverish light in his eyes.

"That's wonderful, darling!" said his wife. "Well, in that case, we must leave you to it." She turned to the Space Brigade. "Perhaps we could postpone your journey until tomorrow night? Or next week? When the artistic mood strikes, Henry does nothing but paint. I'm sure you'll understand."