Free Dinosaur Boy Saves Mars by Cory Putman Oakes

and in perfect synch with the light on the planet’s surface. So when the sun went down on the surface, the light beneath the surface dimmed as well. Which explained how I had seen the sunrise from Sylvie’s guest room that morning. There was even manufactured moonlight that corresponded to the phases of Mars’s two moons, Phobos and Deimos.
    â€œNo stars though,” Sylvie told us. “You have to go to one of the observatories if you want to see stars.”
    The streets were crowded with pedestrians. Most of the people we passed were Martians, of course. But I also noticed a fair number of blue-skinned Plutonians, all sticking close to their Martian escorts. There were a few tall, thin Jupiterians and a smattering of other folks who I couldn’t immediately place. They must have been from other planets. Some were in tight-fitting space suits like Venetio and Ms. Helen. But most people wore loose, flowy things, like robes or roomy pants.
    A lot of the people around us recognized Sylvie. Chancellor Fontana kept us going at a brisk pace, and stern looks from the Martian police officers kept people from getting too close. But there were lots of cries of “Sylvia!” and “Fear the Red!” I thought I heard a few yells of “Dinosaur Kid!” and “Hey, Dino Boy!” but I couldn’t be sure.
    Sylvie cringed at each new voice and tugged the hood of her sweatshirt down over her eyes.
    â€œIf you really want to hide, you might want to think about getting a different-colored sweatshirt,” Elliot said helpfully.
    Sylvie only glared at him.
    â€œCentral is the most diverse city in the galaxy,” Chancellor Fontana bragged, as a gaggle of girl Martians—all wearing red, number 22, Red Razer jerseys—pointed at Sylvie and squealed. “We are truly an intergalactic city with a population representing all eight planets.”
    â€œNine,” I heard Venetio mutter under his breath. “All nine planets.”
    â€œEven Earth?” Elliot inquired.
    Our guide paused, looking a tad embarrassed.
    â€œWell, we’re still working on that one. Earthlings don’t officially know of our existence yet, of course. But everyone is welcome in Central!”
    â€œExcept Plutonians,” Venetio growled under his breath, looking down at his tracking bracelet.
    The streets and sidewalks were all made of metal. The hard surface felt weird under my feet, kind of like I was walking up the front of a stainless-steel refrigerator. It was smooth enough that it didn’t scrape against the bottom of my tail when I walked, which was nice. But the hard surface made my tennis balls bounce in all directions, so I ended up holding the end of my tail in my hand. I couldn’t afford to lose any tennis balls here. Finding a replacement might be tricky—I didn’t know if Martians even played tennis.
    We arrived at a large intersection where several streets came together at once. Chancellor Fontana stopped us just underneath an enormous digital screen and started saying something about the architecture of one of the buildings nearby.
    â€œâ€¦and the turrets are rather obviously based on the famous Trident Hall on Neptune. While the distinctive fluted columns around the entrance give the building more of a late-Venutian-Renaissance, second-period Mercurian influence…”
    I tuned her out and watched as a spiky-haired Martian in a black police uniform spoke solemnly from the depths of the large screen, first in Martian, then in English:
    The security threat level in Mars Central remains high. All Martian citizens and summit visitors are urged to keep a sharp eye out for BURPSers and to report any suspicious activity to Martian officials immediately.
    The announcement caused several Martians and at least one Jupiterian nearby to look suspiciously at Venetio.
    â€œHe’s not a BURPSer,” Elliot informed them angrily. “He’s just a