Rocking the Resistance Page 2

  “Snack break,” Pliz replied in an unnaturally high voice. “They always say it will be five minutes, but by the time they redo our makeup and reset the course, it will be more like forty-five. I’ve been on the show six times now, and it seems like things never run as smoothly as the course directors think they will.”

  “But—” Juno began. She gazed up at the crowd that had, only moments before, been watching her and the other Fight or Flight contestants race through a complicated series of obstacles to try to win the round. Now hundreds of the same fans were eating and milling around and waving to one another. The other two contestants—Alta and Lunddor—were signing autographs for fans at one end of the stadium. Juno fell into step beside Pliz as he made his way toward the Flight lounge. “But we hadn’t finished that section of the course yet. How can they just stop filming before someone wins? I was almost at the end of the level; I’m sure of it.”

  Pliz snorted. “Didn’t anyone explain how this show works?” He pushed open the door to the Flight lounge and grabbed an entire crater cake off the snack table. He stuffed it into his enormous mouth and swallowed the sticky treat without chewing. “I’m going to win.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure of that if I were you.” Juno crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re not winning this time, big guy. You have no idea who you’re up against.”

  Pliz let out an enormous burp and flopped down on a couch. “The show is staged, hon. I don’t care how tough you think you are; the producers know the results of this episode before they even start filming. Doesn’t matter how bad you want it—my contract says I’ll win, so that’s what’s going to happen.”

  “The show is staged?” Juno growled. “Like, the whole thing is rigged?”

  “Of course,” Pliz said. “Now that she’s taken over the production, Geela sets it all up herself.”

  “And you’re telling me I’m going to lose?” She squinted at him.

  “No matter how hard you fight to get through the course first, they’ll figure out a way to throw you off before the end. The results are decided in advance. You never win Fight or Flight the first time you’re on. That’s a guarantee.”

  Chamberlin poked his head into the Flight lounge at that moment. Juno spotted him and glared. She grabbed the curmudgeonly old butler by the arm and pulled him into a corner. “Did you know this show is totally fake? Rigged! Staged!”

  “Yes, Your Highness,” Chamberlin whispered.

  Juno scowled. “You knew? I agreed to be on Fight or Flight because it would give me a chance to demonstrate my true skills as a warrior. It’s not a shampoo commercial, or a singing competition, or any of the fluff the other girls have been asked to be a part of. I want the citizens of the Pentangle Galaxy to see me as something more than just the drummer of a band. I want them to know I’m fierce, and strong, and stealthy—”

  Chamberlin cut her off. “If I may…” Juno tilted her head to one side, giving him permission to continue. In a shaky voice, Chamberlin went on, “I know you want to prove yourself, Juno. But considering your newfound role in the Resistance, you need to be careful not to attract unwanted attention. Perhaps it isn’t such a bad thing if you lose? That will be the best way to continue to keep you hidden in plain sight. Don’t you agree?”

  Juno considered this. Maybe Chamberlin was right. When the five members of SPACEPOP had been recruited as undercover agents for the Resistance movement against Geela, they had all agreed that rebel missions were a great way to fight back against the horrible creature that had taken over their home planets. But it was essential they never get caught. If any of them was ever caught and then discovered to be not only a member of the Resistance but also a princess-in-hiding? It would be a disaster.

  So far, no one seemed to suspect that the popular rock band was not just making music but also responsible for some of the Resistance’s most important successes. In just a few weeks on the job, the girls had destroyed Geela’s media servers, outfitted the so-called empress’s entire fleet of space tankers with tracking devices, and blown up one of her most powerful weapons. The band’s “day job” as SPACEPOP was a great disguise for the princesses-in-hiding, but the rock band was also a great cover for their rebel activity. No one would ever suspect the sweet musical group was capable of pulling off much more than a back-to-back set.

  But if Juno were to win Fight or Flight, she might draw unwanted attention to herself and the others. Still, the athletic princess was proud and didn’t want to look like some kind of slowpoke. Juno didn’t like to lose—ever. Which meant Pliz wasn’t going to win again, not if she had anything to say about it. “No,” she announced suddenly. “I want to win this thing.”

  “Too late,” Chamberlin said with a shrug. “Your contract has you coming in second. And as your manager, I get the final word.”

  Juno slammed her fist down on the table. A platter of tiny Meteor Crunch Bites and a bowl of Crispy Crater Eel Wafers flew into the air. Pliz dove for them, gobbling everything up before it hit the ground. The guy’s reflexes were unbelievable! “I don’t want to be second,” Juno hissed at Chamberlin. “I order you to renegotiate my contract so I can win.”

  Chamberlin heaved a sigh. Juno was one of the least dramatic of the five princesses, but even she had her moments. Trying to sound commanding, the royal butler said, “I’m afraid the answer is no. Save your anger for Geela, if you must.”

  “Oh, I will,” Juno promised, scowling. “I definitely will.”

  RHEA

  Rhea ran one pale blue hand over an elegant satin dress, admiring the feel of the cool, smooth fabric on her skin. She gazed down at the dress’s designer and watched her as she stitched a sleek leather cape. “Are these pieces meant to go together?” Rhea asked. She could feel the cameras at her back, capturing her every word.

  The budding designer—Yaya—looked up and smiled. “I hope so?”

  Rhea grinned back at her. “I think you’re definitely on the right track, then. I love the contrasting fabrics—the dress is so sweet and delicate, while the cape will give the whole outfit a rough edge.”

  Yaya breathed a sigh of relief. “Does that mean I’ll have your vote during final judging, then?”

  Shrugging one shoulder, Rhea gave Yaya a sly wink. When she had signed on to be that week’s guest judge on Galactic Fashion, Rhea had been ordered to never reveal who would get her vote until it came time for the final judging. So she said coyly, “You’ll have to wait and see.” But as soon as the cameras had moved away, Rhea mouthed, “Yes! I love it.”

  Yaya beamed and mouthed back, “Thank you!”

  Rhea had been serving as a guest judge on the set of the popular design show for two days. After several very long days of work, the designers were just hours away from the episode’s final judging. Rhea knew without a doubt that Yaya was her favorite designer in the competition—by far. Her pieces were edgy and interesting, just like Rhea’s own fashion designs. Her use of color and texture was incredible, and Rhea longed to hire Yaya to design something exclusively for her someday. Perhaps when Rhea was back home at the Rhealo palace—going by her full name, Rhealetta Hemmings, again—she could commission Yaya to design her a royal ball gown.

  Rhea had always loved wearing pieces that were totally original and a little offbeat, with unique elements like the oversize blue hat she had designed for herself to wear during her stint as a guest judge on Galactic Fashion. The hat showcased Rhea’s over-the-top, quirky style—and also helped keep the princess-in-disguise’s face more hidden from the cameras.

  The cameras followed as Rhea strolled past the other designers’ pieces, offering her criticism and a few compliments. Everyone on set was working so hard to come up with beautifully designed pieces that would guarantee a chance to sew on for another week. The contestants had just a few minutes remaining to work on stitching their outfits before the models would come in to walk the pieces down the runway for the final judging. There was only one week left in the competition, and whoev
er was crowned the winner next week would walk away with a huge cash prize.

  Ever since she was small, Rhea had longed to serve as a guest judge on Galactic Fashion. She’d been a fan of the show for years, but because she had too many royal duties, she had never been allowed to pursue opportunities like this. She didn’t have time before, and she knew that having a princess judge the designs would be too intimidating for the competitors.

  When SPACEPOP started to get famous, Rhea had finally gotten her chance. It was public knowledge that Rhea designed SPACEPOP’s stage outfits, so the producers of Galactic Fashion had asked her to come in and film a guest-judging segment. She was having a blast. The designers competing on this season of the show were talented and hardworking, and Rhea admired them all for pursuing their dreams. She couldn’t wait to see who would win the whole thing—they all had big plans about what they would do with the money (design school, paying off debt, donating to charity), and any one of them was a deserving winner. Still, Rhea hoped Yaya would take the final trophy. Her talent outshone everyone else’s by miles.

  Rhea was giving a few tips to one of the most conservative designers when the executive producer of the reality show breezed into the sewing room. She clapped twice, then called for everyone’s attention. “Listen up, folks. We have a big surprise for you—major twist!”

  All the contestants looked up from their work. The fashion models had just begun to gather at the edges of the room, and the designers were starting to fit their pieces to the models for the final judging.

  “Please welcome our newest contestant,” the producer said with a grim smile, while the cameras continued to roll. “The beloved empress herself … Geela!” She stepped to the side, and a moment later, Geela swept into the room.

  Rhea sucked in a breath. “Geela?” she whispered, taking a step back into the shadows. Rhea had been in the same room as the empress only a few times before in her life, and each of those times, she had been undercover on a mission for the Resistance. Rhea tugged her hat down over her face just a bit more, hoping the empress wouldn’t notice the similarities between the missing princess of Rhealo and this week’s Galactic Fashion guest judge.

  Like the other four princesses, Rhea had undergone a significant makeover after her escape from the palace—new hair, new clothes, new makeup. But if people were to study her eyes, mouth, or other features up close, they might wonder about SPACEPOP’s blue-skinned guitar player. Then again, the self-appointed empress was so self-absorbed that she might not pay Rhea any attention at all.

  “That’s right, it’s true,” Geela said, answering the unspoken question everyone wanted to ask. “I am entering one of my own fashion designs into this season’s competition. And let me make this very clear: I have every intention of winning Galactic Fashion!” The self-appointed empress held up a piece of fabric that was either a very large pair of pants or a very small gown with leg holes. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

  Rhea cringed. It was anything but beautiful. The creation was horrid. She and Yaya shared a private look across the room before the producer announced, “Judges? May I have a word?”

  The three regular judges and Rhea all filed out of the room while Geela traipsed around the sewing room ripping up some of the other designers’ pieces, spilling coffee on others, and wiping her powdered-sugar-doughnut-covered hands on Yaya’s leather cape.

  As soon as they were out of earshot, the producer turned to the judges with a serious expression. “You understand what needs to happen here, yes?”

  Three of the judges nodded solemnly. Rhea cocked her head and said, “We vote for our favorite?”

  The producer stared her down. “Yes.” She paused. “But just to confirm … who is your favorite?”

  “Yaya’s dress and cape,” Rhea said quickly. “By far the best design of the entire competition. She’s got serious talent.”

  The producer closed her eyes and sighed. “No.”

  “No?” Rhea said.

  “No. Your favorite piece is the one Geela designed.”

  “It’s not.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “It’s not. That thing she was holding up was awful!”

  “When we signed you as a guest judge, I was told you were smart,” the executive producer groaned. “But apparently you are not. Let me explain this in clear terms: you must vote for the empress’s design to win, or you will regret it. She is the leader of this galaxy, and that makes her the best at everything she does. Period.”

  “Are you telling me to lie?” Rhea whispered.

  “I’m telling you that if you value your life and the lives of my staff, you will do the right thing.”

  After a brief, weighty pause, Rhea nodded—this wasn’t the time or place to fight Geela. But as far as she was concerned, it was the last straw. Geela had imprisoned the royal families, destroyed the planets of the Pentangle, and somehow managed to hold the citizens of their usually peaceful galaxy hostage. Even though Geela didn’t need the prize money and had absolutely no talent for design, Rhea would vote for the so-called empress’s design because she had no choice. People’s lives were on the line, and this was no place for a fight.

  But Rhea vowed to herself that Geela wouldn’t have the last word. The evil empress might have won that day’s fashion battle, but Rhea was sure SPACEPOP and the Resistance would win the war.

  HERA

  While Juno proved her strength and athletic prowess in the Fight or Flight arena, and Rhea showcased her fashion expertise on the set of Galactic Fashion, and Luna swished and swung her famous hair to help sell more bottles of Solar Glow, SPACEPOP’s bass player, Hera, was using her newfound musical fame to promote a very worthwhile cause.

  Hera—once known throughout the galaxy as Princess Herazanna Appleby—was as sweet as moon pie and as gentle as spring rain, and she loved nothing more than helping other creatures of the galaxy find their best life. Whether leading her sisters (that’s what she called her fellow princesses) in a guided meditation to relax after a big concert, or taking care of sick and injured animals, or offering a cup of tea to Chamberlin at the perfect moment, Hera loved to see the creatures around her relaxed, happy, and loved. So when she was invited to participate in a celebrity-filled weekend critter-adoption event, she was all too happy to volunteer her time.

  “Let’s start this event by chanting our individual spirits into group harmony!” The organizer of the critter-adoption event, a bongo drummer called Talak-Talek, stood in the center of a mushroom-shaped stage and lifted his hands into the air. Then he beat the top of his drums gently—ba-dum, ba-dam, ba-dum, ba-dam—and hummed. Standing right in front of the stage, Hera swayed and sang along with the rest of the crowd. Her face broke into a smile as she soaked in the atmosphere of love.

  The weekend pet festival was jam-packed with celebrities helping to bring attention to the event, and there were plenty of activities to keep people entertained. Poets and authors were scheduled to read aloud from their works-in-progress, impromptu music circles popped up all over the place, and famous yogis (including Hera’s all-time favorite, Tranla) led guided yoga practice in different parts of the grounds. But the best part of the whole event was the dozens of “cuddle stations” that had been erected on the grounds, where attendees could snuggle with animals that were hoping to leave with their forever families.

  Hera’s first official obligation as one of the celebrity attendees was a photo shoot with some of the critters up for adoption. The festival organizers were hoping to use photos of celebrities with the needy animals to inspire more people to adopt a pet. “If you could just hold the little critter up … yes, like that, love…” A photographer lifted his camera and snapped shot after shot of Hera holding an adorable little kwub-kwub cub. Hera peeked out at the camera from behind the creature’s pointy ears, and the photographer clicked away.

  The furry little critter burrowed into Hera’s flowered shirt and cooed. “You sweet little thing!” she whispered into the kwub-kwub’s
ear. “We’re going to find you the perfect forever home sometime this weekend; I’m just sure of it!”

  Hera set the kwub-kwub down and turned to the next homeless pet, a prickly lan. Though the lan was much less fluffy and snuggly than the kwub-kwub, Hera found herself charmed by the little creature. She tucked her hands into a pair of thick gloves and then picked the lan up for her next series of promotional photos. “You’re going to make some thick-skinned alien very happy,” she promised the lan as the photographer got a few great shots.

  The next creature in line for Hera’s photo shoot was a tentacled creature with giant sticky pads on each of its eleven arms. Hera took a deep breath, then wrapped her arms around the slimy critter. It was beautiful, all pink and yellow, and looked to be in excellent health. Hera knew one of the water-planet inhabitants would surely love to adopt such a fine beast!

  The critter wrapped two of its tentacles around Hera’s head, then three more around her body. When the photographer set up the shot, you could barely see anything more than Hera’s eyes peeking out from beneath a mess of slimy arms. She giggled as one of the critter’s arms tickled her belly. Two more tentacles tousled her long, curly black hair.

  When the photographer was sure he had gotten a good shot, Hera tried to return the creature to its holding tank. But the critter refused to let go. “Now, now,” she urged gently. “Let go, you silly thing. I can tell you love hugs, and I’m just sure we’re going to find a wonderful home for you, too.” The critter wrapped its arms even more tightly around Hera’s body. She laughed and said, “I promise that if we don’t find you a forever home, I’ll take you home myself.”

  As soon as she said that, someone cleared his throat behind her. Hera spun around and grinned out at Chamberlin from beneath a cluster of tentacles. “Oh, hi, Chamberlin!”