A/N – Wow, I never expected Drew's Mom to get so much reaction! She's only a minor character in this story. And in a way, you do have to have a little sympathy for the poor woman. A couple of you asked for fan art to accompany this story. I'm very sorry – there's just not enough time to make that happen. I believe that after my current project at work is done, the boss is going to make us build him a couple of pyramids. Some of you have accurately noted that Tuck doesn't have a very high opinion of Drew right now – all those robot powers, and instead of heroically battling evil, he's just a loser at Wonder Weenie (as far as he knows). And some of you noted that I enjoy writing Tuck as a scheming little troublemaker! Boy, if you thought Tuck was trouble so far … read on.

The Anywhere Cannon

A "My Life as a Teenage Robot" Fanfic

Chapter Four – Unscheduled Overtime

Tuck scowled with righteous anger as he watched the rear end of the Turbo Wagon hang a hard left at the stop sign, and disappear out of view. Lousy stinking Brad! He had time to drive his little brother over to Drew's house, and dump him off like a sack of laundry, but he didn't have time to drive him to Goop Zone for the most important afternoon of his life? What kind of messed up priorities were those? Hadn't the big doofus ever heard of the sacred bond of fraternal love that exists between brothers? Oh, he was so getting Tabasco sauce injected into his toothpaste tube tonight. The frustrated youngster made a mental note to schedule his revenge, then turned his attention back to his immediate problem. The Bot Buster tournament started in a little under an hour. And he was stuck here in the Tremorton suburbs, with no transportation. Well, he wasn't ready to throw the towel in just yet. He just had to think of something.

He looked up into Drew's perplexed face, who still looked like he'd just been handed a ticking bomb. "Uh … hello, Drew?" he said, his voice laced with sarcasm. Most of the bitterness was intended for Brad; Drew just happened to be the closest convenient recipient. "My feet actually do work."

"Oh … uh, yeah, sorry about that, little guy," the android stammered nervously, as he set Tuck down. "Uh … sooooo, what are you, y'know, doing? Here? In my house?"

"Andrew! Manners!" snapped Mrs. Nabholtz, as she cheerfully brushed a stray fleck of lint from Tuck's shoulder. Tuck wasn't sure what to make of Drew's mother at first; with her bobbed hairdo and bright floral dress, she looked like she'd just stepped out of a time capsule from the 1950's. "I thought it was very sweet to get a visit from that nice Bradley Carbunkle boy," she told her son. "It's so nice to see you making friends that don't … rattle. And he thought enough of you to bring his little brother over to spend some time with you! Don't you think that was awfully sweet of him?"

The teenaged android struggled to talk through gritting teeth. "Heh, heh. Oh yeah, Brad's a reeeeeal sweetheart, all right."

Mrs. Nabholtz didn't seem to pick up on her son's sarcasm; instead, to Tuck's growing discomfort, she knelt down and focused her attention on him, gazing into his eyes with her hands clasped lovingly beneath her chin. Kind of looking at him with the same sort of half-crazy look that nutty Aunt Gladys always gave him during family holiday dinners. "So, you must be Tucker," she beamed giddily, unable to resist the urge to pinch his chubby little cheeks.

For a second, he thought she was going to squeeze them right off his face. "Ow! Stop it, lady! You're breaking blood vessels!"

"Such a clever boy!" laughed Mrs. Nabholtz, as she playfully tussled his mop of black hair. "Such a big, strong, human boy – handsome! I said handsome!" She chuckled awkwardly, and a nervous tic tugged at her eyelid. "Oh, it's such a pleasure to meet you!"

Tuck winced slightly under the glare of Mrs. Nabholtz's maternal grin. As a typical, All-American Cute Little Boy, he'd gone through more than his fair share of affectionate maulings like this from visiting relatives, his mother's friends from work, and the fat lady from church who smelled like deodorant. But this was starting to make the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. "Uh … okay, Drew – your Mom's kinda weirding me out here."

But instead of taking offense, Drew's mother laughed again. "Isn't he just darling!" she gushed, giving Tuck a hug worthy of a visiting grandma. She turned to Drew, as she straightened out a cowlick just above Tuck's left ear. "You know, Andrew, I can remember back when you were this size. Oh, you used to have such fun, playing out on the lawn all day, with your little dolls … maybe you could find them upstairs for Tucker to play with?"

A snort erupted from Tuck's nose. "Dolls? BWA HA HA HAAA …"

Drew nearly coughed his teeth across the room. "Geeez! Mom, I was seven! And they were G.I. Joes! They weren't dolls, they were action figures! Action figures! And I'm not going to dig through the attic looking for junk just because Tuck's here!"

"Oh, stop being like that, Andrew," she smiled, as she tickled Tuck on the chin, eliciting more guffaws of laughter from him. "He's our special little guest for today! And as good hosts, we should do whatever it takes to make him happy. Now, is there anything we can do for you, Tucker? Anything at all?"

Tuck wiped a tear from his eye … and a scheming smile blossomed across his cute little face.

"Anything?"

This is going to be like shooting fish in a barrel, Tuck grinned to himself. He rubbed his conniving little hands together, and conjured up his very best pair of puppy dog eyes. Brad and Jenny might have been wise to his tricks, but Drew's Mom was a fresh target who was desperate to make a little boy happy. And he knew just how she could do that. "Golly gee, Mrs. Nabholtz," he chirped, "didn't my big bot buddy Drew tell you?" He bolted two steps, and flung his arms around Drew's silver-green leg, crushing it in a love-soaked hug. "He promised me that we could go to the Goop Zone together this afternoon! Gosh, we're gonna have so much fun playing games and eating pizza and winning prizes – golly gosh gee whiz, I've been waiting all week long!"

"Whoa … WHAT?" shouted a befuddled Drew, shaking his leg in vain – the little con artist was clamped on tighter than an Alabama tick.

"Gee, don't you remember, Drew?" Tuck was enjoying this a little too much; Drew looked like he'd just been handed an army draft notice. The shell-shocked teenager really didn't stand a chance as long as his mother was in the room. Brooding teenager versus cute little boy; it was almost unfair, really. Yeah, like Tuck cared. "You promised we could go, bot buddy!"

"Oh, that's very sweet of you, dear!" Drew's mother gave him a quick hug, and a peck on the cheek. "I'm so glad that you're finally starting to take an interest in helping others."

"Wait … no, I … I never promised the little squirt anything!"

"You're my bestest bestest best bot buddy in the whole wide world," gurgled Tuck, as he mashed his cheek against Drew's knee. This was a bit over the top – but, pride was seriously overrated. Especially when a ride to the Goop Zone tournament was hanging in the balance.

"Well, I'll tell you what, Tucker dear," cooed Mrs. Nabholtz, as she gave Tuck's cheek another playful pinch. "Why don't we get you some nice hot cookies, and a big glass of cold milk, and then we can all drive down to your little Goop Zone playground for an afternoon of fun! How does that sound?"

Drew's arms flailed like he was speaking in semaphore. "But I never said that …"

"Wow, that sounds super duper cool!" cheered Tuck, matching Mrs. Nabholtz's saccharin grin tooth for tooth. It was everything he could do to keep from breaking character as she retreated into the kitchen with a click-click-click of her sensible heels. Once she was out of sight, he finally dropped the cute act, and celebrated his master stroke by pumping his fists and spinning in giddy circles as if he'd just caught the touchdown pass that won the Super Bowl. "Yesss! They haven't made the adult yet that can withstand the ol' puppy dog eyes!" He started churning his arms, performing a cabbage patch victory dance. "We're go-in' Goooop Zone, we're go-in' Goooop Zone, we're go-in' …"

The celebration was harshly interrupted, as silver-green arms hoisted him up onto a chair. Drew's face looked like it was deciding whether to explode or not. "What the heck was that all about?"

"I suppose an explanation is in order," smiled Tuck, with the calm manner of a professor who was about to give a science lecture. He reached into his backpack, and pulled out his trusty MegaSoaker 400 Goop rifle, running his hand along the barrel as if he were presenting it as the grand prize on a game show. "You see, there's a big tournament in the new Bot Buster room at the Goop Zone that I really need to go to. Jenny wouldn't take me, and Brad wouldn't take me, but you just generously offered to make sure I get there in time for the opening buzzer. Nothing personal, Drew – it was strictly business. I was kind of hoping for some robot fighting tips, too – but I doubt there's much of that kind of thing going on down at the Wonder Weenie. Oh well, beggars can't be choosers. By the way, I need thirty bucks for the entry fee."

"Thirty bu-! Snxx Glmphrr Frbble …" – apoplectic spasms racked Drew's body, and he shook a fist underneath Tuck's sweetly smiling face. "Listen up, you little snotpicker, if you seriously think for a moment that I'm gonna take you to …"

"Drew, Drew, Drew." Tuck shook his head with a patronizing chuckle. "As an only child, I see you're unfamiliar with how the whole 'little brother' thing works. Allow me to demonstrate."

And as if a switch was tossed on an air raid siren, Tuck's lungs belted out a howl of woe that saturated the house with an ear-splitting sound. "BAAAWWWW! No, Drew, STOP! You're scaring me! YOU'RE SCARING ME …"

Horrified, Drew realized what the little trickster was doing and tried to quiet him down, but it was already too late. His mother rushed out of the kitchen carrying a tray of cookies, and the motherly fires of hell and damnation were burning in her eyes. "Andrew Skyler Nabholtz, you should be ashamed of yourself! Scaring a poor little innocent boy like that! What were you thinking?"

"Yeah, what were you thinking …" – Tuck was almost in pain, holding back the laughter – "… Skyler?"

"But … but … Gshnxxx …" – Drew smacked himself in the forehead. He'd been knocked back on his heels from the moment Tuck had shown up at his door, and things had only spiraled more out of control for him with every passing minute. He was an android thrown overboard, struggling for a life preserver, only to have the stormy waves of cosmic unfairness sweep him further and further out to sea. "Mom, I didn't – he's not – it's not what it looks like …"

Then curiously, Drew stopped in mid-sentence – and seemed to freeze in place for a second, as if something else had caught his attention. More curious still, he slapped his hand over his eyes. Tuck could make out some sort of strobe effect coming through the silver-green fingers, almost as if … almost as if Drew's eyes were flashing. That seemed kind of weird, thought Tuck, before tossing it aside with a shrug of his shoulders. Eh, robots … whaddaya gonna do.

If possible, Drew looked even more freaked out than he did ten seconds ago. "Ah … you know what, Mom? I'm gonna go upstairs after all, and … uh … ummmm … look for those old G.I. Joes, just like you said!" And without waiting for an acknowledgement from either his mother or Tuck, he bolted away and raced upstairs like his rear end was on fire.

"Don't be too long, sweetie," Mrs. Nabholtz shouted up after him – before shrugging her own shoulders in exasperation. "That boy – I just don't know what I'm going to do with him sometimes. Well, then." Teeth gleaming with a fresh smile, she presented her serving tray of home-baked goodies to her precious little visitor. "I'm so sorry that Andrew was so mean to you, Tucker," she said, as she handed him a cold glass of milk. "Do you think maybe a cookie would help you feel better?"

Tuck eagerly grabbed a warm, moist chocolate chip cookie – he'd smelled them since they'd come out of the oven, and they smelled amazing. "Well … maybe," he grinned, as he mushed the first bite of sweet chocolaty goodness into his cheeks. His eyes rolled back with bliss – and hey, now that he had a ride lined up for the Goop Zone, he had to get his strength up for the competition, didn't he? He leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs, and pounded back a second cookie. Then a third and a fourth. "Mmmmm. You know, Mrs. Nabholtz, I'm going to start coming over here more often!"

Drew poked his head out the bedroom window, checking to make sure there were no curious neighbors lounging about in their back yards. The "Incoming Call" message blinked incessantly across his computerized vision, in obnoxious red letters that were impossible to ignore. Sheesh, he'd just gotten home from work, had a pint-sized holy terror dumped in his lap, and now the rest of his afternoon had just been totally shot to heck … apparently, sixty seconds of peace and quiet was too much to hope for. Well, he sighed, Allison wouldn't have used the special 'Urgent' code unless it was important; better see what the big emergency was all about. A set of spidery silver-green tentacles sprung from his body; he pulled himself out the window, climbed up the wall, and clumsily spilled himself onto the roof. Reception was a lot better up there – plus, it had the nice side benefit of guaranteeing that one of his parents wouldn't accidentally walk in on his call. He straddled the crest of the roof for stability, still fuming over Tuck's scam job, and tried to calm down. Unsuccessfully.

"… rotten little punk, can't believe Mom fell for that … nrrrrghhh!" He stretched out his arms as if performing some bizarre set of android calisthenics, and scanned the sky with synthetically enhanced vision, picking out radio sources that glowed invisibly in the heavens above. He oriented himself using quasars and satellites as reference points, reading the sprawling cosmos like a road map. Then he picked out a vector in the sky, and his pliable body shape-shifted into a surreal, shiny hyperwave dish. A starburst of antennas curled out from his ribs, and reached upwards like the stamen of an alien flower. This was a really long distance call.

A video screen sprouted from a stalk on his chest. It lit up with thousands of rapidly scrolling computer symbols, representing one-half of an incredibly long code key sequence that Drew matched up to a second half he had stored away in his nano-circuitry. All teenagers valued their privacy on the phone, but when your girlfriend was a wanted criminal, and living in a police state, well, you needed a little extra privacy. With the code confirmed, the video feed decrypted itself – to reveal LSN-1482, aka Allison, the robot girl who had gone from being just another public servant to leading the infamous Free Cluster Underground. If you didn't know her, you would never have thought her capable of standing up to an evil queen who ruled half the galaxy. If you didn't know her.

Allison was sitting in a high-backed chair, surrounded by multi-colored computer screens, in front of a backdrop of blinking lights and large, star-filled windows. "Communications channel secured," she said, in a crisp, stern, almost military tone. "A rolling gear gathers no rust."

"Oh, right, umm …" – what was the right counter-phrase today – "… a robot in the hand is worth two on the assembly line. Do we still have to use these stupid code phrases?"

Allison feigned insult at his complaint. "Hey, you used to think they were cool," she smirked. "By the way, what took you so long to pick up?"

"I used to think G.I. Joes were cool," he huffed, in a haggard voice. "And I'm sorry about that, it's just that you kind of caught me in the middle of … something. I'll explain later, if I haven't completely lost my mind by then. For now, let's just say that you … you are a sight for sore sensors, pretty lady." Maybe a call from Allison was just the thing to lift his mood, even if it was in the context of a secret communiqué from five thousand light-years away. He wiggled his eyebrows at her, struck by a sudden bout of silliness. "I see a few stars in that window over your shoulder. Of course, I always see stars whenever I look into your eyes, Sugar Droid …"

A flash of horrified violet came to her cheeks … and a few snickers erupted in the background, further souring her mood. She shot a nasty look to somebody off-screen, and tried to regain her professional composure. "Ackk! Dreeew," she coughed, "ix-nay on the uger-Shay oid-Dray …"

His face sunk; so much for romance, once again. "Oh, fer the love of … you're not alone, are you? Ehhh, that's just great. I was hoping we … uh … could … wait a second – those stars in the window." He did a quick double-check with his video processors to verify his observation. "They're moving! That means … geez, Ally, you're in space! You actually left the bunker? Where the heck are you?"

"I'm on board Captain Polaris' star cruiser, the CSS Free Will." The ship's old name had just been a semi-random jumble of numbers assigned by a Cluster military computer; not exactly the kind of name that inspired the poets. "A couple of other Underground leaders are here, too. For the big mission."

It would take something pretty big to get her off the planet – he snapped his fingers, as the likely answer occurred to him. "Oh, right, the raid on the Anywhere Cannon! I almost forgot about that. So. How'd it go? Did it blow up real good?"

She awkwardly rubbed the back of her neck, with an uneasy look on her face. "Heh-heh. Ummm … yeah. About that …"

If Drew had still owned a stomach, it would have sunk into his ankles just about then. He'd seen that look on her face before; somehow, it was never followed by good news. "Because you are calling to tell me that the mission's over, right? And the base is destroyed, and it was a total success, right? And you're all heading back home to celebrate with cookies and anti-freeze, right? Right?"

"Drew, listen – we don't exactly have a lot of time here," she answered, with a touch of impatience. She blew an irritating strip of hair-foil out of her eyes, and sighed. "There's a problem with the raid. We've run into a little bit of a … ehh … snag."

His eyelids narrowed into a suspicious glare. "What kind of … snag?"

"Okay, remember the file that you stole from Base One Zero this morning?" She began to speak quicker and quicker, a hint of stress creeping into her voice; one might wonder if the robot girl had replaced the oil in her veins with espresso. "Okay, we got it decoded, and it had a full set of blueprints and schematics for the Anywhere Cannon's secret base. Get this: they built the base on the inside of a hollowed-out asteroid. Man, does that just scream evil lair, or what? So the most dangerous weapon in the whole galaxy just looks like a big chunk of rock drifting through space. It's in an asteroid belt, circling an uncharted double star, that's hidden inside of the Gearshift Nebula."

"Wow, talk about 'off the beaten path'," said Drew. A fleet of a hundred warships could search forever for something like that, and never find it.

"No kidding," frowned Allison. Her face shrunk into a small window on the screen, making room for a frenzied splatter of computer-generated blueprints and star charts. "So anyway, The Free Will hyperspace-jumped to the double-star system, and we zipped behind one of the gas giants to hide, because, I figured, y'know, run a quick scan on the base first, better safe than sorry, right? Well, it turned out to be a good thing we did."

A new diagram on the screen showed a detailed cross-section of the Cluster asteroid-base. "Polaris' plan was simple enough. The CSS Free Will is carrying a stealth cruise missile that we stole from one of Vexus' armories a few weeks ago. It's cutting edge, state of the art, but we only have one of them. But no biggie, right? We shoot the missile at the asteroid, asteroid go boom, we fly away, and voila, another crushing defeat for the forces of evil."

"Yeah, yeah, and there was much rejoicing," he groaned. "And that's not happening, because …?"

Allison snarled and drummed her fingers, shooting another evil glance off-screen. "I'm not going to name names … let's just say that somebody, who might be a Captain, and whose name rhymes with Shmolaris, somehow missed the fact that the asteroid has an …" – she paused, and read a line from her arm-computer – "… n-dimensional spacetime-manifold hyperflux generator installed on it." She registered the look of bewilderment on Drew's face, and rolled her eyes in sympathetic frustration. "Hey … don't ask me, I can barely spell it. Greaser tells me it's like a jumbo force field. And it's powerful enough to protect the whole asteroid from our cruise missile."

"Get a bigger missile?" Drew suggested, hopefully.

"Hmph. Typical male answer," she half-smirked at him, shaking her head. "Not enough time. We think that the base is about to go fully operational. We have to attack now, before Commander Smytus has a chance to fire the cannon at some poor defenseless planet! So we put our heads together, and figured … the only way to destroy the asteroid base is to …" – she put on a big smile, and fidgeted with her fingers – "… make sure that the force field is shut down first. Say, by, ohhhh, I don't know … just tossing out an idea here … having somebody sneak in and sabotage it …"

"Oh boy, I don't like where this is going," he gulped, glumly.

"Drew, we need you to jump to that asteroid and disable the force field. I'm sending coordinates for your teleporter now – for both the secret base, and the current position of the Free Will." A block of gibberish popped up on the flat screen, with arrows pointing to selected spots in the double-star system. "I know this is really short notice, but time is crucial. As soon as we see that the force field is down, Polaris will launch the stealth cruise missile. Then you'll teleport off the asteroid, and join us here on the Free Will before the missile hits." Allison nervously rubbed her right arm-housing, unable to contain her concern any longer. "Th-that cruise missile has a pretty big warhead, Drew. Once the force field is down …. don't waste any time getting off that asteroid, okay?"

"Jeez, you're making this sound better all the time," groaned Drew, with a melodramatic roll of his eyes. He more or less figured that she'd suggest something like this; under the circumstances, it wasn't a bad plan. And it was the kind of thing he did at least twice a week now, in his little part-time job with the Cluster Underground. But still – yeesh, this one was going to be a doozy.

Allison's shoulders sank; her face, a silent apology. Her hydraulics wrapped themselves into a cold, hard knot deep down in her chassis; she knew how dangerous this mission was going to be. "Drew, if there was any other way …"

Drew sighed, and gave the video screen a wan smile. Smytus had a doomsday weapon that could wipe out the planet Earth and conquer the galaxy, and for some perverse, cosmic joke of a reason, the only hope of defeating him rested with a scrawny, anxious pile of silver-green pudding. "Sure, why not. It can't be as bad as selling chili dogs to a bunch of screaming mall brats, right?" He broke into a laugh, even managing to coax a giggle out of his distressed girlfriend. Then his voice grew more serious, and he looked Allison square in the eyes. "Ally, I told you months ago, when you decided to start the Underground, that I would be there for you, whenever you needed me, no matter what. And I meant it. I meant it for the easy stuff, and I meant it for the tough stuff, too. You know that all you ever have to do … is ask." A tense silence came over the two young robots as they contemplated the dangers of the approaching mission. They smiled warmly at each other, their eyes speaking volumes more than mere words ever could. Drew morphed one of his antennae back into an arm, and raised his hand to the video screen, as if to caress it. Allison did likewise on her end of the link, reaching out as if to lovingly touch him across the gulf of space that separated the –

"Bleeeeah," blurted out a mischievous, chuckling voice. "Man, this is worse than those Spanish soap operas that Jenny watches! Mwa, mwa, mwa, mwa … I think I'm gonna puke."

Drew jumped five feet in the air, like a silver-green cat whose tail had just been stepped on. It was only a miracle of android reflexes that kept him from lurching off the roof in total shock. Spindly legs scrambled for purchase on the roof shingles, and his head twisted around to come face to face with …

"Tuck!" he gasped, nearly flummoxed beyond the ability to form words. Where in blazes did he come from? The black-haired scamp was standing calmly behind him, watching the whole show with a Cheshire-cat grin painted across his face. Drew grabbed two fistfuls of green-flecked hair and tried to put a coherent sentence together. A thousand panicky questions screamed in his nano-circuits, but all he could manage to grunt through his teeth was "What … why … how … when …"

"Not exactly Mister Articulate, are you?" frowned Tuck. "Hard to believe you're the same guy who wrote the mooshy love poem I found in your bedroom." He glanced over one of Drew's antenna-arms, and waved at the stunned robot girl he saw on the screen. "Hi! I'm Tuck! You must be Sugar Droid."

Drew barely had time to register the baffled look on Allison's face, before hastily sucking his array of screens and antennas back into his body, like a syrupy umbrella self-consciously snapping itself closed. "Gshnnxxx … Tuck …" – he balled his shaking fists and counted to ten to keep his temper in check. Then he counted to a million. Nano-computers can count very fast. "Tuck, what the blazes are you doing up here? How long were you standing there? How much did you hear? What did … wait a minute. You were in my bedroom!"

"It was the quickest way to get up to the roof," he said with a shrug of his shoulders, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Don't worry – I've been crawling in and out of Jenny's bedroom window for months." He paced back and forth as effortlessly as if he were walking down the front walkway. "I'm practically part mountain goat. You never know what you're going to find on a roof until you actually get up there. It's like searching for lost pirate treasure! Why, just this month I've found four Frisbees, a box kite, and half a dozen practice golf balls!"

Drew didn't even try to make sense of that. "Jzzzshnxx … Tuck, were you just spying on me?"

"Relax, relax," smiled Tuck, as he trotted towards the edge of the roof. "I wasn't spying on you. I just came up to remind you that we're all driving to the Goop Zone in a few minutes."

D'oh! Drew smacked himself in the forehead – he'd almost forgotten. Oh, man, he needed to think of a way to weasel out of this, and fast; he had bigger things to worry about right now than some stupid Goop Gun tournament. "Oh boy … Goop Zone. Right. Ummm … listen, Tuck, about that. I've got to … take care of something really important, first. Sooooo, why don't you and my Mom head on over to the Goop Zone, and you get yourself all signed up for your little tournament, and … er … I'll meet you there in a little while, after I'm done with my … ehh … thing." He crossed his fingers; maybe the little fellow was open to reasonable negotiation. "Would you be cool with that?"

Tuck rubbed his chin in deep thought, as if he were weighing the negotiating points of a World Peace Treaty. "I suppose that would be okay," he said, leading Drew to relax in a moment of hope. Then Tuck grabbed a string of white knotted sheets that were looped around the rain gutter, and repelled down to Drew's bedroom window. "Oh, and don't worry, if your Mom asks where you are, I'll just tell her that you'll be along … as soon as you're done with your secret mooshy phone calls to your robot girlfriend!"

Drew shrieked in horror, clambered across the roof, and swung himself back inside his bedroom with the grace of a man falling down a flight of stairs. "Wait! Wait! No, Tuck, just … don't tell my mother!" Drew's parents weren't exactly wild about Allison because (a) she was a robot, (b) she lived five thousand light-years away, (c) on a planet that attacked Earth more or less on a weekly basis, (d) and she managed to get him into trouble all the time. His folks didn't realize that he was still talking to Allison regularly, let alone still seeing her. And Drew wasn't eager to have them find out. Because if they did find out that he was sneaking off on life-threatening sabotage missions to help Allison's band of Cluster guerillas – he'd be grounded until retirement. "Tuck, please, just hold up for a second …"

Tuck laughed as he tightened the straps on his Johnny Zoom backpack. Drew truly was a total newb when it came to handling little brothers. Tuck hadn't even known that Drew was hiding anything; all he'd done was play a bluff. Ah, the favorite taunt of little brothers the world over … I'm gonna tell Mom! He jumped up on Drew's mattress, and leaned back on one of the pillows. "Perhaps you'd care to reconsider your totally lame attempt to bail on me?"

"I wasn't trying to bail …" stammered Drew – it was only then that he noticed the white sheets which Tuck had tied into a makeshift rope. "What did you do to my bed sheets, you little monster? Great, Mom's gonna kill me." He didn't have time for this …

"Well it's not like you were using them, Pudding Boy," smirked Tuck. "You sleep in a tub!"

I don't have time for this. I don't have time for this ... "Tuck, please. Will you just get out of my room, and go downstairs? My Mom will take you to your stupid Goop Zone deal. I'll meet you there later, I promise." Anything to get Tuck out of this bedroom right now. Now, where did I put that thing … Drew frowned, and started rifling through the mess of books on his plywood bookshelves. For some reason, everything in his room seemed more disorganized than he'd remembered leaving it. "Tuck, did you go through all my stuff?"

"Of course I did," he said, matter-of-factly. "How do you think I found that stupid poem?"

"Gnshhnnxxx …" – count to a million – "… so do you just rummage through you brother's room like this, too?" He fumed, and yanked out the sock drawer, tossing perfectly folded, unused tube socks onto the floor. Where is that stupid …

"Naw, don't have to. I know where all his good stuff is." Tuck sat up on the mattress, folded his arms, and delivered a look of disapproval at Drew. "I came up here because I figured, hey, this is the room of a freaky cool teenage robot, so there must be some freaky cool stuff in here! Maybe some trouble monitors, or secret weapons … or some kind of way cool technology that I could sneak into the Goop Zone with me. Haven't you ever seen Jenny's bedroom? There's all kinds of fantastical scientific blinky gizmos all over the place! But sheesh, here you are, Mister Freaky High-tech Nanodroid, and your room is just as boring as Brad's."

"Sorry to disappoint you," Drew grumbled sarcastically. If he wasn't so distracted, he'd have tossed the little pest out by now. His neck shwerped out, stretching to look behind his study desk. Didn't I hide it back here?

"You don't even have any decent video games," whined Tuck, as he reached underneath one of the pillows. "All I could find was this busted-up GameStation Portable in your knapsack."

The knapsack! Drew snapped his fingers with a grin. That's where I left it! It was in my knapsack, that I tossed on the bed – a horrible, sickening feeling blossomed in Drew's innards, like yogurt going bad – the same bed that Tuck just totally ransacked.

"Wait a minute," Drew said as he turned around. "I don't own a GameStation Portable …"

The spoiled-yogurt feeling in Drew's syrupy gut spread through his entire body. There, in Tuck's pilfering little hands, was a brick-sized chunk of exotic alien technology, held together with mismatched parts and a double roll of utility tape – and Tuck was busily mashing the buttons on its interface, no doubt wondering why he couldn't get the start screen of Super Hammer Brothers to boot up. The gizmo that Tuck thought was a busted-up video game was, in fact, Drew's hyperspace teleporter, the same portal generator he used to travel back and forth to Cluster Prime – and the one he needed to use right now if he was going to have any chance of helping out Allison and the Underground.

"Hey!" Tuck beamed triumphantly. "I think I figured out how this thing works."

"Tuck!" shouted Drew. "For Pete's sake, whatever you do, don't …"

The teleporter clicked and beeped … and a chittering hiss filled the confines of Drew's bedroom, like the scream of a hundred thousand locusts. A ferocious blast of wind kicked up a spontaneous tornado of homework assignments and baseball magazines. Tuck's eyes sprang to the size of hubcaps, staring in disbelief as a crazy, kaleidoscope-colored hole ripped open directly underneath him, as if the mattress had suddenly decided to eat him alive. With a shriek of surprise, and clutching onto the teleporter for dear life, the youngest Carbunkle dropped into the gaping portal and disappeared from sight. Then just as suddenly as it had opened, the wormhole began to seal itself up. Drew leapt desperately towards the mouth of the vortex … but it blinked into nothingness just as he arrived. Instead of following Tuck through dimensions, the panicking android just got a face full of pillow.

"Oh … crap," he squeaked, as a flurry of loose leaf paper drifted down around him.

Continued in Chapter Five