Vicky of Venus

VICKY’S VENUSVILLE VACATIONLAND

by Wyatt Davenport

Chapter 1

The Planet of Love and Ugliness

Personal log . . . No wait, this is my head . . . I’m on my way to the planet of Venus, and I’m going bonkers with excitement! I’d cue the musical act and dancing boys, but Molly would go red with embarrassment if I did.

Oh yeah, sorry, this isn’t Molly of Mars. I am Vicky of Ven . . . No, I can’t say that.

Let’s start here. I’m Vicky Valentine. My best friends are hero-of-everything Molly of Mars and Pirra Lennox, an alien who just so happens to be a planetary legend, too. I’m not sure what a teenage girl can do when she lives in the shadow of that, but I’m accepting an assignment to run the largest amusement park floating in the clouds of the planet Venus. My dream of taking over my family’s entertainment corporation, Valentine Entertainment, starts there.

Vicky, look. Venus. Roxanne Larson crawled over my lap to catch a view of the clouded, yellowy, tan-colored planet.

The shuttle, Vixen I, rattled with some space turbulence. We were taking an express flight to Venus from my home on Mars.

Roxy, how can I see with your big head in the way? I pushed her brown hair down.

Big head? Roxanne laughed. She’d been a close friend of mine for the past year or so. When I heard I could bring an assistant, she was the first person I asked. I thought she’d say no because she was a bit of a tech head. Surprisingly, she was bored with it, and I was grateful.

I’m so nervous about running Vacationland, I thought. It involved everything: making sure the rides ran, managing the food service, handling complaints, taking care of maintenance—everything . . . the whole burrito. Or was it enchilada? Maybe fajita. No, enchilada. Whatever. I needed Roxy more than she knew.

As the planet came into view, my excitement grew. Venus, the goddess of love, looked beautiful from orbit. I touched my blond hair, almost jealous. The sparkling clouds swirled across the planet’s face, and the sun behind the ship displayed a full view.

You know, you can get a better view from back here, someone said from behind us.

What? I thought we were the only ones on the shuttle.

Back here. The girl appeared to be my age, fourteen, and she had on a pair of tight jeans and a bluish-gray sweater.

I didn’t see you back there, I said as I came up to her. I straightened my polo top and rubbed my khaki pants flat. Where were you? And who are you?

Whitney Phavors. I was stretched out on the back row. I’m an expert sleeper on these express runs between the planets. I’ve done them dozens of times. She activated a button against the side of the hull, and a giant window appeared.

Oh wow! I exclaimed. Roxanne and I pressed our faces against it. You weren’t kidding. The view’s spectacular.

I thought Mars was big from orbit, Roxanne said. Venus is huge.

It’s almost the same size as Earth, Whitney said. She had dark reddish-brown hair and thoughtful brown eyes. I could tell just from the way she observed us that she had some brains. Venus’s beauty is only skin-deep. Those clouds aren’t water. They’re sulfuric acid.

Like burn-your-skin-off acid? Roxanne said. No way.

Like way, Whitney said, laughing.

I put my hand to the window, awed by Venus’s beauty. It dominated the view now. It stood alone without any moons, and its clouds painted it with a soft and clean complexion. Slight swirls smiled at everyone who gazed upon it. It would make any man blush. Isn’t Venus beautiful, Roxy? And we’re going into it.

She gulped. I guess so.

I didn’t think Martians were so skittish, the ship’s pilot, an older man, said from the front of the shuttle. He’d been nice to us when we had boarded on Mars, even joking about our Martian jeans being a red color.

Skittish? Hardly, I said with a bit of annoyance, though I could tell he was just being funny. Mars has been so nice lately. I hardly remember the bad weather.

I was there three weeks ago near Lake Miranda, Whitney said. It’s a fun place. Loved the lake. No bugs.

I took my eyes off Venus for a moment to look at the girl. Really, what brings you to Venus?

I travel a lot for work. I had a job at the Lake Miranda Boat Company, but now I’ve moved on to Vacationland. I’ll be working for some spoiled rich girl. She’ll be running the place for the season. Just my luck, too, to have a brat. I couldn’t get out of it, either. The school assigned me without any options.

I tapped my face with my finger. I heard that spoiled rich girl helped save Mars recently.

No, no. I’m not talking about Molly of Mars or Pirra the alien. I’m talking about the other one. The blond-haired, blue-eyed . . . .uh-oh . . . awkward moment.

I smiled at her, primping my hair. I’m Vicky Valentine, spoiled rich girl. And this is a friend of the spoiled rich girl, Roxanne Larson.

Whitney’s face went red. I’m so sorry. It’s just that . . . you’re on an express shuttle, not some fancy yacht . . . and you carried your bags onto the shuttle, so I didn’t think you were her.

Some of us spoiled girls still like to pull our own weight. And I make my own money doing my own jobs. I plan on taking over Valentine Entertainment one day, so don’t think I’m here for fun or pampering.

But it’s an amusement park, Whitney said. Gotta have some fun.

Point taken. I won’t lie. Her judgment of me did sting, but it warned me of what might be ahead. Maybe the rest of the employees would think I was spoiled and I wasn’t ready for the job. I’d have to prove them wrong and fast.

Girls, the pilot said, get to your seats. We’re going to hit the atmosphere in thirty seconds.

I looked out the window again. We were fast approaching the yellow atmosphere of the poisonous planet. Roxanne and I sat down quickly. Whitney moved to the back of the shuttle without another word. She probably still had her foot in her mouth.

The shuttle shook as we broke into the clouds of Venus. They looked spectacular, but the idea of sulfuric acid hitting the ship’s windows and hull made my skin contract. Just a drop and the acid would eat through it in no time. Venusville surviving for almost twenty years in the cloud city was amazing, and I couldn’t wait to see it. I’m a little nervous, I whispered to Roxanne.

Don’t worry, the hull is reinforced.

Not about that, I said, though I was lying. I mean about taking over Vacationland. Whitney thinks I’m some spoiled kid. Everyone will be against me.

No, they won’t. Five minutes with you, and they’ll see how smart you are, how selfless you are.

And if they don’t? I have some ideas on how I want the park run, but I need them to believe in me.

Roxanne put her hand on my shoulder. You’re already making up challenges, and we haven’t even arrived yet. Maybe the Lake Miranda rich kids jaded Whitney, and she’s angry. Don’t assume she speaks for everyone.

I guess, I said as the ship shook back and forth, driven by the unfriendly winds of Venus. The swaying of the shuttle caused my stomach to drop like a roller coaster. Yikes.

The shuttle will compensate, Roxanne reassured me. Whitney simply put her foot in her mouth. You don’t have to worry about the others.

The comment still hurt, but I tried to play it off. You know that awkward moment when you criticize your future boss to their face . . . it isn’t only embarrassing to the person who says it.

I gotcha, but look at it like this. Whitney might help you spread the word about not flying in on a yacht with baggage handlers in tow.

I hate being the other girl, too. Not Molly of Mars or Pirra the alien sister but the other one. Maybe I do need them to be successful.

They’re heroes, Roxanne stated.

Thanks.

And Vicky Valentine is also a hero. The best kind of hero. You’re humble, and you let Martians celebrate Molly and Pirra. Grabbing the attention would’ve only made you miserable.

I nudged her. Maybe I’d like a little face time. I’ve got a pretty face.

Too pretty, Roxanne said. The media needs a few chipped teeth and black eyes.

I laughed. Molly looked so funny with that missing front tooth. Must’ve hurt, too. A violent jerking of the ship cut my laugh short. What was that?

Don’t worry, girls, the pilot said. We always get these storm systems on the way in. I’ve seen it a hundred times.

The ship shook again as the rain clouds thickened. My hands gripped the armrests like vises. The pilot’s head bobbed up and down as the ship seemed to surf through the clouds. The pilot didn’t seem fazed, and his playful demeanor was starting to irritate me. I really wanted him to focus, or at least pretend to focus.

Thunder clapped, rolling through the ship. Suddenly the tail of the ship slipped around to the front. I screamed until I realized I was the only one screaming, and I forced myself to stop.

Is this one of the rides? Roxanne asked. It feels like it.

No way, I replied. No safety harnesses.

The ship shuddered again. The pilot flipped out of his chair and hit hard against the deck.

Immediately, I slid out of my chair and grabbed him. Roxanne hurried to the controls. The man had a large gash along his forehead, and his right arm was bent sideways at an angle nature never intended. I wasn’t a doctor, but I thought he had dislocated his elbow. Mister Pilot. I tapped on his chest. Are you okay?

Get me to the chair, he muttered. I need to land us.

Okay. I put my hands under his back and pushed him into a sitting position. He groaned in such a horrific way that I immediately lowered him to the floor again.

What’re you doing? Whitney came up from behind me. Are you exercising him?

I wasn’t doing yoga, I barked. He wanted back in the chair.

Vicky, Roxanne said.

I ignored Roxanne and concentrated on Whitney as her hands ran along the man’s arm. He winced in pain.

Stop that. I grabbed at Whitney. What’re you doing?

Get back. She pushed my hand away. I’m a nurse.

Nurse? I said skeptically.

Yes, I’m your assistant health professional for the summer. Surely you read your employment report.

Oh, you’re Beatrice Phavors.

Shh, she said. Whitney. Always Whitney.

Vicky. Roxanne kept her pestering going.

Roxy, I snapped. I’m trying to talk to Whitney about the pilot.

The pilot will be part of Venus in a second! she yelled at me. Get up here.

Out of the front viewport, I could see the surface of Venus becoming more visible through the thick clouds. If we didn’t correct our course soon, we’d be dead.

Whitney, tend to him. I rushed to the front and slipped into the captain’s chair. Roxanne’s hands were moving a mile a minute on the side controls . . . but the ship wasn’t doing anything. Why aren’t you pulling up?

The only reason we aren’t dead yet is because I’m keeping the shields intact. The temperature outside is hotter than a barbecue, and the acid that got through the shields is eating us alive.

I believed her. Roxanne was a tech head, and I really didn’t understand how she did half the things she did. But she was always right about that stuff. What should I do?

Pull us up or Venus will drag us into its surface.

So far, Venus hadn’t welcomed us. Perhaps she was a bit jealous of our beauty. How do I fly it?

The control stick is a start, Roxanne said. You told me you read the driver’s manual for your hovercar tests.

It seems so different . . . but it can’t be that much different from the hoverbikes I’ve driven. I yanked back on the control stick. The ship’s nose jumped up, and the tail dropped down. It looped one full turn end over end, and I let go.

Vicky! Whitney called.

What’re you doing? Roxanne mumbled between finger taps.

I don’t know! Sue me! But a second later, I understood why it had flipped. It was an internal computer safety measure. Shuttles were bigger than hovercars, and they weren’t designed for sharp upward turns. Sort of like an elephant couldn’t turn from side to side as fast as a jackrabbit.

I licked my lips. The surface was closer and gaining more quickly than I would’ve liked. I’d never be able to pull up in time. I grabbed the control stick again and lightly pulled the ship upward. A plan formed as I scanned the orangey, brownish- yellow surface.

Pull up faster, Whitney shouted at me.

I’m trying, but if I flip around again, what’s the point? I’m thinking ahead.

Yank it! Whitney screamed. Or we’re pancakes.

No, I said. The shuttle wasn’t designed for it. The safeties flipped me around on purpose.

The safeties are going to kill us, Roxanne said. I’ll stop them.

No! Keep on the shields. I know what to do.

But—

Roxy, trust me. I eyed the massive volcano to our right and veered slowly to the left. The dark patch on the ground sorta looked like a canyon, but it could also have been a sulfuric acid lake. I knew I’d have to risk it.

According to warnings on my dash, the surface was only a few hundred feet away. Alerts chimed, and I gritted my teeth as the shuttle fired its rockets toward what I hoped was a canyon. Our descent slowed, but we would definitely hit the dark patch.

What’re you doing? Whitney pressed into me and grabbed the control stick. The shuttle jerked back and forth. Your rich-girl cowardice is going to kill us.

Don’t do that! I pushed her face and pulled her backward until she let go. Get away! I shoved her hard, and she fell on her butt.

I grabbed the control stick again. The dark patch was still in our flight path. We were meters from hitting it.

Flash! The lights on the front of the shuttle burst on and displayed a brilliant canyon with waterfalls of sulfuric acid on either side.

I got the lights working, and the shields are stable, Roxanne said. Lucky it was a canyon, Vicks.

Yeah, nice guess, Whitney mumbled as she rubbed her rear. Thanks for not killing us. Seriously, thanks.

Sorry for pushing you, I said sincerely. I didn’t like hurting people, but sometimes it was necessary if they were spazzing out. I took a guess . . . an educated guess . . . because you have to respect the safety standards. It’s policy at our parks.

So the shuttle flipped on purpose? Whitney said. On her feet now, she leaned over my shoulder to look at the canyon walls.

Yeah, so the engines wouldn’t rip us in two. Ships of this size aren’t like the little fighter jets you see at air shows, so they build in safety measures. I fanned my face with my hand. Why’s it so hot in here?

Sweat dripped from all three of us. The near-crash was dangerous but not that dangerous.

I told you it was hot outside, Roxanne said. Its seven hundred degrees. Venus’s beautiful clouds are a hot blanket over the planet.

I guided the shuttle gingerly back above the canyon and pushed it upward toward the lower clouds.

Mayday, Mayday, Roxanne said into her headset.

We waited for a good fifteen seconds, but no reply came.

How’s the pilot? I asked.

Whitney nodded toward him. In pain, but I set the dislocation. He’ll need some concussion meds.

So he’ll make it?

If we do.

Mayday, Mayday, Roxanne repeated.

I grabbed a headset from above and slipped it on. Mayday. Mayday. Venusville, do you copy? City in the clouds . . . hello?

No reply.

Maybe we drifted off course, Whitney said. We’re on the other side of the planet now. Get into orbit again.

We can’t, Roxanne said. I don’t think the shields will hold.

How do you know any of this? Whitney asked. What’re you, ten?

The small-framed Roxanne shot Whitney a wicked eye. Thirteen, and I’ve worked on deep-space haulers my whole life. If you don’t know how to fix a ship out there, you’re one of the floating dead. You know them?

I did. The floating dead was the name given to the ships found in the outer solar system that had had engine troubles and no one had heard their Maydays. They’d float for years until someone found the skeletons, usually pressed against the portholes, looking for another ship. Creepy stuff.

So we’re going to be the buried dead on Venus? Whitney said. Just great.

Technically, I said, we’ll probably be liquefied after the acid breaches the hull, and we’ll join the primordial ooze.

Whitney’s face soured. Primordial ooze? Sounds gruesome.

I tapped on the controls to set us on a level course. That’s how we started millions of years ago on Earth, so maybe in a few million years, we’ll start a civilization on Venus.

Great. Whitney threw herself into a passenger seat. Lost in hell. This planet doesn’t look so beautiful all of a sudden.

I agreed with her. The ship hovered over the rough, bleak surface. I leaned back in my chair with my hands to my face. To fail and not even get my chance at Vacationland really was hell. It would torment me forever.

Chapter 2

Mayday, Shmayday

Mayday, Mayday! I screamed into the headset for the thousandth time. Pick it up! Ah!

I slammed the headset on the dashboard. It rattled to the floor. Two hours of floating a thousand meters from the surface. I dared not fly around because the clouds were a maze, and we’d just get more lost.

Roxanne lay on the floor, sweating and barely conscious. Whitney toweled her head with water, but Roxy’s red, overheated face and dry, dehydrated lips worried me. I turned away to worry about something else. Several alerts flashed on the dashboard, but I had no idea how to fix them. Roxanne had said it was impossible.

About an hour earlier, the pilot had fallen unconscious, and Whitney couldn’t revive him. Rain splashed across the hull again, and the shields fizzed. Any second the hull would melt away.

I tapped on the control panel, thinking that I should’ve learned more about shuttles instead of Mars’s most powerful celebrity couples. Jake Holloway and Jana Lee Delany, I muttered.

The Martian celebrity couple? Whitney said. Shouldn’t you be thinking about a way out of here?

Why aren’t you? I snapped back.

I’m a med tech, she said. If it was a dislocated elbow, I’d fix it. Like I already did.

How’s Roxy doing?

Muttering and overheated. She needs to cool down.

I toweled my face, but found that the towel was wet and heavy. I tossed it to the floor. I was babbling about celebrity couples on Mars. It’s the last magazine I read on my tablet. I wish I’d read the shuttle’s manual.

Whitney nodded. Yeah. I did a word puzzle. Seems pointless now.

Follow the money, Roxanne whispered.

Follow the money? Whitney repeated. She’s going loco.

No, I said. That’s what I always tell people when I hear about a crime or something. It’s always about money in the end. It solves lots of problems to find out why the person wanted the money and where it came from.

If we die, Whitney said, I guess your brothers and sisters will bank the company.

Just brothers. Hmm . . . the shuttle company would lose a pretty penny on this express-class shuttle. An idea hit me. They take precautions to ensure they can find them if something goes wrong.

So—

Wait. I put my finger up. They also alert satellites if the pilot does something stupid, like overheating the engines.

I tapped on the controls, slipped the shuttle into a standing hover, and pushed the engines to maximum throttle. The engine alerts across the dashboard lit up like a Christmas tree. I held them steady.

You’re going to kill us again, Whitney whined. What crazy idea hit you?

"I might kill us, but the idea is sound. Shuttle Express has asset tracking. It’s so simple. If someone is going to lose money, they’ll do anything to protect it. We track our hoverscooters at our huge parks, or someone will steal them. There’s a huge computer room. Anyway, it’ll