As Nicola said this she checked that she still had her own pass. It was a large gold card hanging on a black cord around her neck. Nicola was grateful to JJ-11 for finding such authentic-looking passes. Wearing it made her almost believe she really was a journalist.
Tyler hoisted a movie camera over his shoulder and Sean picked up the sound equipment. Katie had a beauty case full of makeup, while Nicola had her microphone and notepad. Shimlara jangled the bus keys and Greta officiously tapped her pen against a clipboard.
"I'll do all the talking," announced Greta crisply.
"Ignore her," said Sean in Nicola's ear as they all walked up the aisle and off the bus.
Greta didn't hesitate. She walked straight into the crowd of protesters, holding her press pass high, and shouting, "Press! Press!"
Nicola couldn't help but be impressed. Who cared if she was irritating? It was worth it to have her on the Brigade. Congratulating herself on this mature response, Nicola followed close behind Greta, holding up her press card in the same way.
One of the Volcomanians dropped his PEACE, NOT WAR sign by his side and stuck his face close to Nicola's. She tried not to flinch when she saw his scaly, crocodile skin up close. "You're not Volcomanians. Where are you from?" he growled.
"We're from Earth," stammered Nicola. She'd hoped to sound like a confident journalist but instead her voice came out like a frightened five-year-old.
She cleared her throat.
"We're an Earthling news crew," she said firmly. "We're here to interview you about the War on Whimsy. Are you prepared to answer a few questions?"
Now she sounded pleasingly aggressive. The Volcomanian actually looked nervous.
"On camera? Me? On TV?" he said and bit his lip. "Oh, I don't know. I might say the wrong things. You'd be better talking to my wife. She always has a lot to say." He grabbed for the sleeve of a woman marching next to him. "Bertha! This is a journalist from Earth! She wants to interview you!"
His wife, who had what looked like peace symbols painted on her red, scaly cheeks and was shaking an instrument that looked like a tamborine, was shouting at the top of her lungs, "Peace, not war, hear me roar!" She turned around and saw Nicola and the rest of the Space Brigade.
"A journalist from Earth! That funny little planet! But don't you think you're the only planet in the galaxy?"
"We wouldn't be here if we thought that, would we?" said Sean.
"But goodness me, you're a very young news crew," said Bertha. "I've got children the same age as you. Shouldn't you all be in school?"
"We start our professional lives very early on Earth,
" said Nicola. "Now, do you want to be interviewed or not? Because I can always ask someone else."
"Oh, of course I would! I want to have my say! Roll the cameras! Let the universe hear how ashamed I am of my planet!"
"Be careful what you say on air, darling," said her husband.
"I've got to have my say, Bert!" said Bertha passionately.
"Okay, I want you over here." Greta took Bertha by the arm. "And I want the rest of the protesters in a sort of semicircle behind you waving their signs."
While everyone followed Greta's instructions, Katie came over to Nicola with her beauty case. She pursed her lips professionally as she brushed blush onto Nicola's cheeks and eye shadow onto her eyelids.
"We've got to really define your features for television," said Katie.
"Ummm, don't forget I'm not really appearing on television," said Nicola quietly, as Katie agonized over the right choice of lipstick.
"Oh! Yes, of course," said Katie. It seemed like everyone was becoming caught up with their fake identities. Sean and Tyler were arguing over the best place to set up the camera equipment, while Greta was still marching around giving orders. Only Shimlara was standing still, watching the proceedings while she chewed furiously on her fingernails.
Finally, after Katie had wound Nicola's unruly hair into a bun at the back of her neck, she pronounced her ready.
"Here are your interview questions," said Greta, handing over a sheet of paper. "Use exactly the same wording I've given you. Don't say anything that isn't on the script. All you need to do is hold the microphone in front of Bertha and nod."
I'm not just your puppet, Greta, thought Nicola as she took the piece of paper.
She read the first question: