The Hairball of Horror! Read Free Page A

Butch had finished filling the hole. ‘Now let’s get back to the ship.
We’ve got twenty minutes to leave this smelly hairball and get out of its path before—’
    ‘This is WOOF calling Rocket,’ interrupted his collar, lights flashing around the captain’s neck. ‘I’m picking up a strange movement from your location. The blue
rivers on the surface seem to be changing course and are heading straight for you.’

    ‘That’s impossible!’ said Rocket.
    ‘My scanners have been monitoring the surface ever since we landed,’ said WOOF. ‘I’ve double-checked all the data and there is a definite shift taking place . .
.’

    ‘No. I mean that hairballs don’t have rivers!’ said Rocket, looking around for signs of movement through the dusty astral winds. ‘Which means it must be something else.
It obviously felt the vibrations of the digger and is snaking its way here to investigate.’
    ‘Over there!’ said Poppy, squinting at the hazy, smoky movement growing thicker in the distance. ‘It’s like a thick blue mist that is slowly closing in on us.’
    ‘That’s not mist,’ said Butch, hearing a sound above the roaring wind.
    ‘How do you know?’ asked Poppy.
    ‘Because mist doesn’t hiss,’ growled the bulldog.
    It was then that the Spacemutts saw glaring yellow eyes glowing all around them, as many feline shapes marched on their hind paws in close formation towards them. As they moved forward the
captain saw that the cats were wearing flappy furry hats and trench coats with shiny buttons. He also noticed they were armed with curved sabre swords!

    ‘Regiments of Russian Blues!’ said Rocket.

    ‘The most merciless of all military moggies!’ said Butch.
    ‘And they have us trapped on this hairball,’ said Poppy, as the feline forces penned them in, paws on swords.
    ‘Right on top of a ticking time-bomb!’

    In the cockpit of the
Dogstar
, Montague had been listening to the Spacemutts, conversation over the intercom and was growing increasingly concerned about Rocket, Poppy
and Butch, and his chances of ever getting home again. The poodle looked up from his nail filing when he heard the words ‘ticking’ and ‘bomb’ and scanned the control panel
for the boom-bone timer.
    ‘UH-OH!’ he said aloud, seeing that the device was set to detonate in exactly fifteen minutes, and with the Spacemutts trapped there was no one to pilot the ship. ‘Things are
going to get very messy indeed!’

Mechanical Animal
    With the sea of smoky blue cats closing in around them, the Spacemutts kept together in a tight group. Rocket, Poppy and Butch all lowered their heads and growled a warning,
even though they were completely outnumbered and it was only a matter of time before the cat army attacked.

    All around them the Russian Blues were unsheathing their swords and swishing them menacingly. Then they began a strange dance of spins and swiping blades, leaping forward in an elaborate
    ballet of synchronized slashing.

    said Rocket, pricking his ears.
    ‘I can’t hear anything over the whistling wind,’ said Poppy.
    ‘Except for the hissing of cats,’ said Butch.
    ‘There’s something else out there,’ gasped Rocket, tilting his head to find the direction of the sound. ‘It’s an engine! And I think it’s coming from the
other side of that hill.’
    The Spacemutts all looked towards the hairball hill, hoping the
Dogstar
would appear and swoop down to rescue them. There was a chance Montague could have worked out how to switch the
controls from manual to autopilot, and then WOOF could zero in on their location.

    The Russian Blue cats heard the noise too and looked up expectantly. Then they all began yowling with glee as the clockwork
Mouseship
appeared over the starry horizon.
    Lady Fluffkins had arrived.
    The metal mouse hovered in the air, tail spinning and whiskers twitching as it landed on the hill with its metal bottom facing the three dogs and the regiments of cats. Moments later