Cows in Action 3 Read online

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title Page

  Dedication

  The C.I.A. Files

  Prof McMoo’s Timeline of Notable Events

  Chapter One: A Morning of Emergencies

  Chapter Two: Chase Through Time

  Chapter Three: The Moo-Stery Deepens

  Chapter Four: Fire, Flood and Marrows

  Chapter Five: Roman Knows

  Chapter Six: The Emperor’s Moo Friend

  Chapter Seven: The Secret Beneath

  Chapter Eight: The Ro-moo-n Empire

  Chapter Nine: The Best Laid Plans of Moos and Men

  Chapter Ten: Raising the Roof (with a Hoof and an Oof)

  Chapter Eleven: Assault and Buttery

  Chapter Twelve: Chariots of Fire

  About the Author

  Also by Steve Cole

  Copyright

  About the Book

  WHERE NO COW HAS GONE BEEF-ORE …

  Genius cow Professor McMoo and his trusty sidekicks, Pat and Bo, are star agents of the C.I.A. – short for COWS IN ACTION! They travel through time, fighting evil bulls from the future and keeping history on the right track …

  The C.I.A. travel back to the ROMAN EMPIRE, where TER-MOO-NATORS are turning innocent bulls into WARRIORS! With all Rome at risk, Mc Moo, Pat and Bo battle GLADIATORS and race to the death in CHARIOTS, trying to solve a moo-stery that could wreck history FOR EVER!

  It’s time for action. Cows In Action.

  For the dynamic dinolings of 3GR as was – Morgan, Nadia, Lukas, Joseph, Pablo, Tom, Kit B, Garry, James, Eden, Fiona, Kaia, Fergus, Ollie, Mairna, Jimmy, Luis, Titus, Lea, Eve, Shadeh, Phoebe, Sunee, Joss, Caitlin, Milan, Kit V, Laura Wa, Tyler, Laura Wh, Imogen and Yusuf – and for their hard-working and resourceful teacher, Suzanne Green.

  THE C.I.A. FILES

  Cows from the present –

  Fighting in the past to protect the future …

  In the year 2550, after thousands of years of being eaten and milked, cows finally live as equals with humans in their own country of Luckyburger. But a group of evil war-loving bulls – the Fed-up Bull Institute – is not satisfied.

  Using time machines and deadly ter-moo-nator agents, the F.B.I. is trying to change Earth’s history. These bulls plan to enslave all humans and put savage cows in charge of the planet. Their actions threaten to plunge all cowkind into cruel and cowardly chaos …

  The C.I.A. was set up to stop them.

  However, the best agents come not from 2550 – but from the past. From a time in the early 21st century, when the first clever cows began to appear. A time when a brainy bull named Angus McMoo invented the first time machine, little realizing he would soon become the F.B.I.’s number one enemy …

  COWS OF COURAGE – TOP SECRET FILES

  PROFESSOR ANGUS MCMOO

  Security rating: Bravo Moo Zero

  Stand-out features: Large white squares on coat, outstanding horns

  Character: Scatterbrained, inventive, plucky and keen

  Likes: Hot tea, history books, gadgets

  Hates: Injustice, suffering, poor-quality tea bags

  Ambition: To invent the electric sundial

  LITTLE BO VINE

  Security rating: For your cow pies only

  Stand-out features: Luminous udder (colour varies)

  Character: Tough, cheeky, ready-for-anything rebel

  Likes: Fashion, chewing gum, self-defence classes

  Hates: Bessie Barmer, the farmer’s wife

  Ambition: To run her own martial arts club for farmyard animals

  PAT VINE

  Security rating: Licence to fill (stomach with grass)

  Stand-out features: Zigzags on coat

  Character: Brave, loyal and practical

  Likes: Solving problems, anything Professor McMoo does

  Hates: Flies not easily swished by his tail

  Ambition: To find a five-leaf clover – and to survive his dangerous missions!

  Chapter One

  A MORNING OF EMERGENCIES

  It was just another quiet Thursday morning at Farmer Barmer’s sleepy organic farm. Chickens pecked the corn … pigs rolled in mud … sheep grazed in the meadow …

  And with a massive moo of alarm, a large red-and-white bull came crashing out of his cow shed and fell to his knees!

  The bull was no ordinary bull. For a start, he was wearing glasses and clutching a screwdriver in one hoof. His name was McMoo – Professor Angus McMoo – and he was a brilliant inventor. The cow shed he lived in was no ordinary cow shed, either. After months spent raiding the bins of the scientist next door for electronic bits and pieces, Professor McMoo had made it a very special cow shed indeed …

  “Quick!” cried McMoo. “Pat, Little Bo, get out of that paddock and into the shed, now! It’s an emergency!”

  And with that, he charged back inside.

  “An emergency?” Pat Vine, a young bull, turned to his older sister in alarm. “I wonder what’s happened.”

  “Who cares, as long as it’s exciting!” cried Little Bo happily. She ran for the gate that separated their paddock from the professor’s yard. “I’ve been practising my boxing moves. I’m itching for the chance to give someone a hoof sandwich!”

  Pat frowned as he charged after her. “You can’t solve every problem just by whacking it, you know!”

  “Can!”

  “Can’t!”

  “Can!” They reached the gate, which was chained shut. Bo smashed it to bits with a karate cow kick and smiled triumphantly at Pat. “See?”

  Pat sighed. Sometimes he found it hard to believe that he and Bo were related. While he was quiet and thoughtful and liked to puzzle stuff out, Bo was a wild, impulsive milk-cow who liked fighting and dying her udder strange colours (today it was aquamarine). But they were both clever cows, from the same breed as Professor McMoo. Scatty, fun and always energetic, the professor was their guardian, their guru and their best friend.

  But why was he suddenly in such a flap?

  “Pat! Bo!” he yelled again from the cow-shed doorway. “Come on, it’s urgent!”

  Pat and Bo rushed over.

  “What’s up, Professor?” Pat panted. “What’s the emergency?”

  “Can I whack anyone?” added Bo hopefully.

  McMoo looked serious. “Come into the shed. I’ll show you what’s happened.”

  So Pat and Bo bustled inside. The wooden walls were stained and scuffed, hay littered the floor and cobwebs cloaked every corner. It looked so grotty, no one would ever have guessed the incredible truth …

  “Brace yourself, you two.” McMoo sighed. “I’m afraid—”

  “What is the meaning of this?” came a dreadful screech from outside. “You stupid steak-brained vandals have gone too far!”

  Pat gulped and peeped out through the doorway. A large, blubbery woman was jumping up and down with rage in front of the broken gate. She looked like a giant bullfrog trying to lay a square egg, only not quite as attractive.

  “Now look what you’ve done, Bo!” he groaned. “Bessie Barmer’s going round the bend!”

  “Huh!” snorted Bo. “She went there a long time ago, if you ask me.”

  Bessie Barmer was the farmer’s wife. She was an old ratbag who hated all animals and was always plotting to send them off to the butcher’s. Which was why Professor McMoo had turned his extraordinary mind (and his lifelong love of science and history) to the challenge of turning his cow shed into a very special machine. A machine that would allow him and his friends to escape the farm and their fast-food fate …

  A time machine!

  But they hadn’t counted on the arrival of mysterious cows from the future. Cows who persuaded McM
oo, Pat and Bo to join the crime-busting, time-busting C.I.A. – short for Cows in Action. Now the three of them had a secret life, travelling through time on dangerous adventures …

  But as far as Bessie Barmer was concerned, they were just silly cows.

  “The ancient Romans had the right idea,” Bessie growled. “Like my great ancestor, Bessium, who ran the Roman Games. She threw cattle into the arenas and made them fight wild animals till they were squished. What a laugh! I wish I’d been there …”

  “I’ll show her squishing!” cried Bo, getting up on her back legs and waving her front hooves, while Pat struggled to hold her back.

  “No, Bo,” said Professor McMoo. He kicked away a bale of hay to reveal a large bronze lever. “We haven’t got time to waste on Bessie Barmer. Get those doors closed, quick!”

  Bo did so, just as McMoo yanked on the lever, and a rattling, clanking noise started up. Panels in the walls swung round to reveal futuristic flashing controls. A large computer screen swung down from the rafters. A huge horseshoe-shaped bank of switches and buttons poked up from the muddy ground to fill the shed’s centre, along with a large wardrobe stuffed full of clothes from all times and places. The cow shed was becoming a Time Shed, ready to travel to any place on Earth in the past or future.

  “What was that noise?” Bessie Barmer’s snarling voice carried to them from outside. “I know you’re hiding in there! I’m gonna make mincemeat out of you!”

  “Better get out of here,” said McMoo, twisting and turning the Time Shed’s controls. A hissing, swooshing sound started up. The ground lurched beneath their hooves, and bright purple light peeped in through cracks in the walls as the control centre shuddered and shook, faster and faster …

  “We’re off!” shouted McMoo.

  Pat and Bo clung to one another as the Time Shed sped across the seas of time. “But where are we off to, Professor?” Bo demanded.

  “To the year 2550,” McMoo proclaimed. “To the Palace of Great Moos, in the land of Luckyburger.”

  “But …” Pat stared at him. “That’s where the C.I.A. has their headquarters! Why are we going there?”

  “Are all our friends OK?” asked Bo anxiously.

  “We’re going there because something truly terrible has happened,” said McMoo. “Pat, Bo, I don’t know how to tell you this …”

  “Try quickly!” said Bo.

  “Well,” McMoo went on, “I was just about to check the hypertime transit systems, when I realized … we’ve run out of tea bags.”

  There was a long silence.

  “Tea bags?” Bo echoed.

  Pat frowned. “We’re going all the way to the twenty-sixth century to pick up some tea bags?”

  BUMP! The Time Shed landed.

  “It’s a serious matter!” McMoo protested. “Normally I’d ask Bo to raid Farmer Barmer’s supply in the kitchen, but I heard him tell Bessie that he’d run out too. Besides” – he grinned at them both and opened the doors – “it’s been seven days since our last mission for the C.I.A. One whole week! I don’t know about you lot, but I fancied a bit of excitement!”

  “And you’ll get it too,” came a gruff voice. A hefty black bull with curly horns stood in the large marble hall outside. He wore a dark suit and shades, and a bright blue sash around his waist.

  “Yak!” Bo ran out of the time machine, jumped into his arms and almost squashed him flat. “How’s the Director of the C.I.A. this morning, then?”

  “Worried,” Yak admitted, quickly putting her down. “Hey, Professor. Hi, Pat. I was just about to send you an urgent message. We’ve got an emergency here.”

  McMoo stared in alarm. “Don’t tell me you’ve run out of tea bags too?!”

  With a sigh, Yak clicked his hoof. Three cow maids quickly appeared with trays of steaming tea. Pat and Bo had a cup each, while McMoo was given a large plastic bucket. He drained it dry in moments. “Ahhhh, that’s better.” He smacked his lips. “Now, what’s up?”

  “I wish I knew,” said Yak. He led the way across the marble floor into a super-cool meeting room. “All I do know is that the F.B.I. is up to something big this time …”

  A prickle went down Pat’s back. F.B.I. was short for Fed-up Bull Institute, the C.I.A.’s biggest enemies. They were always trying to muck up history and turn peaceful cows into savage, warlike creatures.

  “Take a look at these pictures,” Yak went on. He pressed a button and images appeared on the wall. They showed a huge, terrifying figure with glowing green eyes smashing his way through a shop window, robotic arms full of high-tech circuits.

  “A ter-moo-nator,” said McMoo grimly. “Half robot, half bull and all nasty. They’re the F.B.I.’s deadliest agents.”

  Yak nodded. “Ter-moo-nators have been robbing electronics stores all over the country and taking the loot back in time …”

  “Where are they taking this stuff?” asked Pat.

  “When are they taking this stuff?” Bo added.

  “That’s just the problem – we don’t know!” Yak sighed. “The F.B.I. has found a way to jam our time-trackers, so we can’t tell where they’re going.”

  Suddenly, the meeting room shook with a massive explosion!

  “What was that?” gasped Pat.

  Bo cheered. “Let’s find out!”

  Professor McMoo led the way out of the room alongside Yak. Cows were milling about in alarm. Huge chunks of marble lay scattered in the palace hallway. A big hole had been blasted in the floor.

  And climbing out from inside the hole was a ter-moo-nator …

  Chapter Two

  CHASE THROUGH TIME

  “A ter-moo-nator, here?” spluttered Yak. “In the Palace of Great Moos?”

  “Nowhere is safe from the F.B.I.,” sneered the ter-moo-nator in a deep, mechanical voice. “We can rob anywhere!” As cow workers scattered in panic, he climbed out of the hole with a handful of electrical parts. Letters and numbers on its steel chest revealed his name to be T-117.

  “Where did the ter-moo-nator get those parts, Yak?” asked McMoo urgently. “What’s underneath us?”

  “The private garage,” Yak realized. “All the very latest air-cars and travel-pods are parked down there.”

  “C’mon, boys,” yelled Bo. “Let’s park T-117 down there too!” She started to charge towards the robo-bull – just as it pulled out a massive ray gun!

  “Get down, Bo!” shouted Pat, rugby tackling her to the floor.

  As the ter-moo-nator opened fire, Professor McMoo butted a slab of marble across the floor to block the path of the energy ray. The stone glowed white, then disappeared.

  “That was a good tackle, Pat,” said Bo approvingly. “And nice work from you too, Professor!”

  Yak dragged them both clear as T-117 fired again. The death rays missed them all by centimetres. Then the robo-bull produced a large silver platter – an F.B.I. portable time machine – and jumped on top of it.

  “Mission completed. Activating time jump.” At once, T-117 started to disappear in a cloud of black smoke.

  “He’s getting away!” roared Yak. “And with our time-trackers jammed, we don’t know where he’ll end up.”

  “To the Time Shed, quick!” cried McMoo. “The ter-moo-nator doesn’t have much of a head start. If we’re fast, maybe we can follow his trail through time.”

  “You’re brilliant, Professor!” said Pat happily, chasing after him into the Time Shed.

  “See ya, Yak!” Bo blew him a kiss as she jumped inside too. “We’ll stop that ter-moo-nator, just you wait!”

  “Good luck!” Yak shouted.

  Then the time shed glowed purple and disappeared.

  Inside, Professor McMoo ran around the control room like a mad bull, flicking switches and pulling levers. The large screen hanging down from the rafters showed bright purple patterns.

  Bo frowned. “Is the screen on the blink?”

  “No,” said the Professor. “That’s what’s outside – the passage of time. We’re whizzing
along it at eighty years per second, chasing after that.”

  Pat looked closely. He could see a small, gleaming figure up ahead, riding a silver platter like a surfboard. “The ter-moo-nator!” he realized.

  “He’s going faster than we are!” Bo exclaimed. “He’s getting away!”

  “I’ll try to boost our speed,” called McMoo. “Watch the screen closely, Bo. The moment that ter-moo-nator disappears – moo at the top of your lungs. When she does, Pat, you must pull that yellow lever at once. Got it?”

  “Got it,” Pat and Bo chorused.

  “Here goes, then!” McMoo twisted five controls at once! Sparks exploded all over the Time Shed, and it shook and spun like a fairground ride. The overstuffed wardrobe burst open and clothes flew about like crazy bats.

  “Two hundred years per second,” gasped the professor, blue sparks zapping all around him.

  “We’re catching up with the ter-moo-nator!” said Bo, hanging on to the screen. “Hang on, I think he’s … MOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

  At her signal, Pat pulled the yellow lever. It was like slamming on the brakes! With a squealing, scraping sound, the Time Shed stopped spinning and landed with a crash back on Earth.

  “Phew,” said McMoo, wading through piles of clothes to reach the destination meter. “Well, I’ll be a calf’s kipper! The ter-moo-nator has led us to ancient Rome in the year 64 AD. That’s the year of the Great Fire of Rome!” He shook his head in wonder. “It went on for days and days. Two-thirds of the city burned to the ground.”

  “That’s really interesting, Professor,” said Bo, dropping down from the computer screen. “But I’m going after the ter-moo-nator – he’s not getting away from ME!” And before McMoo and Pat could stop her, she had thrown open the doors and gone charging outside.

  “Wait, Bo!” McMoo hollered after her, stuffing a silver ring through his nose and passing one to Pat. “You forgot your ringblender!”

  Pat pushed his own ringblender into place. They were a brilliant C.I.A. invention. Cows who wore one could pass themselves off as human beings, blending in perfectly – just so long as they wore the right clothes. The special rings also translated any language. But only humans could be fooled by ringblenders. A cow would still recognize a ter-moo-nator – and a ter-moo-nator would recognize a cow …