Akiko on the Planet Smoo by Mark Crilley Page B

happen before, Beebs, and I got a pretty good notion of what they’re negotiatin’,” Spuckler said, grinning. “These Sky Pirates may be a bunch of dirty rotten thieves, but they do know a thing or two about salesmanship.”
    â€œSpuckler, you’d better not be saying what I
think
you’re saying.”
    â€œYou should be proud, Beeba,” said Spuckler. “You’re fetchin’ a pretty good price down there.”
    â€œSpuckler . . .”
    â€œNot as much as me, of course . . .”
    â€œ
Spuckler!
”
    â€œ. . . But at least twice what you’re really
worth
, anyway,” Spuckler concluded.
    And he was right, too. The Sky Pirates were actually
selling
us, like chickens at a farmers’ market. We were all untied and taken down to the deck, where a group of Sky Pirates led us off the ship and into a big caged wagon. There was enough space for all of us to sit comfortably. In any case, it felt a lot better than being tied up.
    A big, brawny guy pulled the wagon down a side street that led into the center of the Sky Cove. People stared at us as we passed, pointing and hissing excitedly at one another. There was nothing we could do but stare back at them and wonder what was going to happen to us.
    We were taken down winding street after winding street, past small crowds of people who were too busy to even look up. They stood in circles, sometimes laughing, sometimes shouting angrily at each other. Occasionally we could see inside the buildings, which were dimly lit and filled with similar groups of men, crowded around tables and sometimes bursting into noisy conversation.

    â€œI may not know these Sky Pirate people as well as you, Spuckler,” Mr. Beeba said, “but it’s plain to see that they’re up to no good.”
    â€œAw, a little gamblin’ never did no one any harm,” Spuckler replied, smiling.
    â€œGambling?” I asked.
    â€œYeah, Akiko. That’s the main reason why these people come to the Sky Cove. It’s kind of like the gamblin’ capital of Smoo.”
    â€œNo wonder this place is so filthy and abhorrent,” Mr. Beeba said, taking his spectacles off to give them a good cleaning. “One can practically
smell
the degeneracy.”
    I didn’t quite understand all Mr. Beeba’s big words, but I knew what he meant. There was something about all those people huddled in circles that made the Sky Cove even scarier than it already was. I actually felt safer inside the cage. I even tested the bars to make sure they were good and strong.
    Finally we arrived at a huge sports arena, the one that Spuckler had seen as we came into the Sky Cove. It was a big round building, about the size of a football stadium, only it looked like the whole thing was built out of solid stone. It was very dirty, covered with all kinds of weird curvy-lettered graffiti and surrounded by piles of rotting garbage. Still, you could tell by the sheer size of the place that this was the most important building in the whole city.
    We were led to a gateway in the side of the building that was big enough for wagons much larger than our own. It was pitch-black inside, with just enough light for us to see that we were being taken down a long ramp into an area somewhere underneath the arena. Through the darkness I could see Mr. Beeba shudder a little and glance around nervously.
    â€œNow, it’s important in the Sky Cove never to let anyone see that you’re scared,” Spuckler instructed. “Try your best to look tough.”
    â€œWhat about Poog?” I asked, wondering just how tough Poog was able to appear.
    â€œAll right, forget tough,” Spuckler said after a long pause. “Just try to look cool.”
    A minute later we were taken out of the wagon and put inside a damp little cell with no furniture of any kind. The walls and floor were built entirely out of stone. The air was very humid, and