"I never touched the sphere myself," said Frink as he related his tale to Alan. "Ling did all the handling. I was afraid I'd be corrupted by its power, with the echoing voice and the maniacal laughter and whatnot. Not long after Ling had inserted the sphere into the Tomographic Gamma Blaster for analysis, the lab door was torn off its hinges, and a man and woman in blue robes came in. It wasn't hard to tell they were unicorns. One of them, the man, caused the sphere to shoot out of the machine and into his hand. Ling tried to snatch it away from him, but the woman stunned her with an electrical shock. I asked them what they wanted, as if it wasn't obvious, and all the man had to say was, 'The testing phase is complete.' I tried to chase them as they ran, but they were too fast."
Feelings of dread haunted Alan. "Well, this is less than optimal," he remarked. "If turning everybody at Lakewood Elementary into zombies was just a test, then what'll happen to the world when the sphere enters active duty?"
"It's not that powerful," said Sue, who was standing expectantly behind the boy. "I think it only affects people within a mile or two, and that's not enough to control the whole world."
"Yes," said Alan, cupping his hand over the phone receiver, "unless a mile or two is all they need. Think Washington D.C., or the United Nations headquarters."
"I'm teaching this week," Frink told him, "but I can make it to Elwood City on Friday evening. Gather up all your friends who have experience with the unicorns, and we'll hold a powwow, with the brainstorming and the buckskin outfits and the indigenous dancing, ga-hoy."
Alan hung up the phone and turned to the cat girl. "It doesn't make sense," he said with a slight shrug. "If the unicorns have such a powerful weapon, why have they waited until now to use it?"
"Yeah," said Sue thoughtfully. "It would've come in handy when we were fighting Dark Augusta."
"Dr. Frink has the right idea," said Alan. "We should talk to everyone who's met a unicorn—Arthur, Francine, D.W., Fern…"
At that moment Arthur, Francine, and D.W. were visiting Buster's condo and getting acquainted with Principal Haney's new constant companion, Scrunchy. The muscular bodyguard was demonstrating his strength by holding both Arthur and Francine aloft as they clung to his massive biceps.
"I want a turn! I want a turn!" whined D.W.
"Are you kidding?" said Arthur, dangling from Scrunchy's arm. "He could lift you with his pinky toe, without even putting us down."
"I may be strong, but I'm not that strong," said the tall man with a chuckle.
"Oh, sure you are," said Buster, who stood nearby. "You're so big and tough, you should go into California politics." Turning quickly to his mother, he asked, "Mom, if you and Mr. Haney get married, will Scrunchy get to live with us?"
Bitzi shot him a patronizing grin. "What makes you think Herbert and I are going to get married, Buster?"
"Well," replied the rabbit boy, "you two are holding hands on the love seat. You and Harry did that all the time before you got married."
"Yes," said Bitzi, nodding. "We also did this all the time," she added, leaning over to deliver a peck to the principal's cheek. "But that doesn't mean we're getting married."
"Okay," said Buster, who was beginning to understand. "But if you do marry Mr. Haney, will Scrunchy live with us too?"
His mother responded with a somewhat pained look. "Excuse me, Herbert," said the woman with the horn-rimmed glasses, and she rose to lead Buster into another room. Once inside, she closed the door quietly and started to explain matters to her son, while Petula dozed peacefully in the background.
"Richard's time with us is limited," she told the rabbit boy. "He was appointed to watch Herbert as a temporary solution. Right now the government's trying to come up with a permanent way to keep him safe—and when I say permanent, I mean, the rest of his life."
Buster stared blankly, having missed her point.
"When you and I went to Torchwood to protect Petula," Bitzi went on, "it was only until the end of the Yordilian invasion. It's different with Herbert. He needs his bionic heart to stay alive, which means he'll be marked forever."
"But if somebody steals his heart, he'll die," said Buster.
"Exactly," said his mother, "and the world's full of people who won't stop at killing him to possess the technology. There's not much he can do besides hide out under a false identity, or move to another planet. I'd have to really love him in order to follow him into such a crazy life, and I'm not to that point yet."
"But…but he's got Scrunchy," said Buster, his concern growing. "Nobody can get past Scrunchy."
"Scrunchy is only one man," said Bitzi understandingly. "There's a limit to what one man can do, regardless of what the movie trailers say."
The conversation left Buster with mixed feelings—chagrin over Scrunchy's imminent departure, and relief that the danger of his mother marrying Principal Haney had faded away for the moment. As he returned to the living room, he observed that the bodyguard's audience had been joined by Sue and Alan.
"Hey, Alan," said Arthur, greeting the bear boy. "Did you find your sphere?"
"No," replied Alan ominously. "It's in the hands of the unicorns."
"That's not good," said Arthur, shaking his head. "Two of the X-Pets died to keep the sphere away from them."
"Three," Alan corrected him. "They killed the Professor too."
"Oh, no!" cried D.W. "The poor little wheelie dog!"
"What'll they do with the sphere?" Francine wondered. "Turn us all into their slaves?"
"Wouldn't that be something," mused D.W.
In her mind she pictured a vast, grimy factory, where thousands of children were compelled by whip-bearing guards to stitch together stuffed unicorn dolls. One of the slaves, Arthur, completed his doll and laid it on a conveyor belt, which carried it into a room marked Quality Assurance. In this room sat D.W., Nadine, and Vicita, who greeted each incoming unicorn with a warm hug.
Arthur paused to gasp and wipe his brow with his sleeve. "I hate this job," he muttered.
Immediately, the masked unicorn who stood above him started to strike him with a whip, shouting, "Di-di mao! Di-di mao!"
"They created the sphere," Alan observed in the real world. "They could've enslaved us a long time ago. I don't think that's what they want."
"Wait a minute," said Arthur. "If the unicorns made the sphere, how did it end up in Pal's mouth?"
"Hmm," said Alan, searching his brain. "Nightgrowler must've left it with him for safe-keeping."
"Who the heck's Nightgrowler?" Sue inquired.
"He's one of the X-Pets," replied Alan. "His power is to teleport over long distances."
"Jenny was there when the X-Pets had their battle," Arthur recalled. "Maybe she can give us some answers."
Alan, Sue, Arthur, Francine, and D.W. hurried in the direction of George's house, passing by the Muffin Man Café, where a little girl with red braids waited anxiously, alone at a table for two.
Muffy glanced left and right, seeing numerous patrons consuming coffee and muffins, but not the person she expected to not see. "I can't see you, Fern, but I know you're there," she said with quiet confidence.
Jenny the alien girl was seated in the Nordgrens' living room, scanning a catalogue for a brand of nail polish that contained no chemicals toxic to her species, when the five friends arrived. "Hi, everybody," she said in her multiple-channel voice.
"Hi, Jenny," said Alan. "We need to talk to you about some things, like the sphere, and the unicorns, and where they took you when they abducted you."
The unicorns, thought Jenny uneasily. I'd better keep quiet. What if their story about being a persecuted minority is true?
"Unicorns are mythical," the Kressidan girl insisted.
"So are aliens," Francine snapped back.
"This is important, Jenny," said Alan. "We believe the unicorns may be planning something dangerous."
He could be right. He could just be paranoid. Maybe the whole of humanity is paranoid about the unicorns. What should I believe?
"I'm from another planet," said Jenny condescendingly, "and even I know unicorns aren't real."
"We know you were taken by unicorns," said Arthur, but the artichoke-headed girl merely turned her gaze back to the catalogue.
To be continued