"We expected the worst when we heard the preschool had been hit," said one of the mothers to the teacher. "But you managed to save them all, you clever girl, Rosie!"
"No, no!" said Rosie. "It wasn't me, it was these wonderful apparitions! It was like magic. I called for help, and they appeared with a puff of smoke and a sprinkle of stardust! They set to work, rescuing the children with the use of their superpowers! Look at them, aren't they lovely! Someone must paint their portraits and sculpt their statues!"
The Space Brigade squirmed with embarrassment as the parents dropped their children and ran to hug them.
"We are forever in your debt!"
"How shall we ever repay you?"
"Shouldn't we get out of here?" asked Tyler. "Won't the Volcomanian soldiers be here soon?"
"See how intelligent they are!" beamed Rosie.
"We shall take you to our village and give you a feast in your honor!" cried the parents.
"Oh, that's really not nec--" began Nicola, but the children had already grabbed them with their sticky hands and were dragging them away from the bubble-covered preschool and down a pathway that led out of the forest.
"What magical planet are you from?" asked one of the parents.
Nicola decided it would be best if they stayed undercover. Although these people were clearly not Volcomanians, she had learned from her experiences on the Planet of Shobble that you could never be too careful.
"We're journalists from Earth," she said. "We're reporting on the war.We don't have any magical powers at all and we're definitely not superheroes--we were just happy to help."
The parents refused to believe that magic wasn't involved in some way.
"It was magic that put you in the right pl
ace at the right time," they agreed.
"Just good luck," said Sean.
"Exactly," said one of the fathers with dark hair, a pale face, and soulful eyes. "Luck. Magic. Same thing. I once tried to write a poem on exactly that topic. It didn't really come together. I must try again." He wandered off, pulling a small notepad from his pocket and a pencil from behind his ear.
One of the mothers was looking at Shimlara. "You're not from the planet Earth, are you, my dear? You're far too tall. Actually, there's something familiar about your lovely young face."
"I'm from Globagaskar," said Shimlara.
"Ah." The mother frowned. Then her face cleared. "You must be Georgio and Mully Gorgioskio's daughter! You're an exact mix of the two of them. Georgio's nose. Mully's mouth." The woman looked around excitedly. "Are your delightful parents here, too?"
"Ah, no, they're not," said Shimlara. "Well, we think they could be here on Whimsy, but, um--"
She glanced at Nicola, obviously not sure how much she should say.
"How do you know Georgio and Mully?" Nicola asked the mother.
"They visited Whimsy the day after Volcomania declared war on us," said the woman. "They were so charming! They gave us a list of things we should do to try and prevent the war. You see, my husband is Henry Sweet--he's the new president of Whimsy, although it does keep slipping his mind. Where is Henry?"
"Right behind you, my love!" A man wearing a beret, with spatters of paint across his face, was walking behind them, carrying the little plump boy who liked cupcakes on his hip. Nicola recognized the man from the pictures that XYZ40 had shown them at the intelligence briefing.
"This is Georgio and Mully's daughter," said the woman.
Henry nearly dropped his son as he bowed deeply.
"There are no words that can express my gratitude for the gift of my son's life. It plunges deeper than the ocean, it soars higher than an eagle."
"Ah, that's okay," said Shimlara. "Um, your wife was saying that my parents were here?"
"Indeed they were. They could only stay for a day. They had to get back to Globagaskar. They said they had a small son who was being babysat by his grandma and a daughter who was away on the Planet of Shobble." He looked at Shimlara and Nicola, and said, "Well, you must be the Space Brigade!"