Empire of the Space Cats (Amy Armstrong Book 2)

by Stephen Colegrove

  “That sounds awesome, not evil.”

  “Really? Watch this. I’ll send a request for the latest weather report over Cheezburger.”

  Immediately dozens of colorful boxes cascaded over the screen and covered the image of the SpaceBook drone. Neon advertisements for a can of something called “Jurg” were quickly covered with image after image of cats lying on shaggy pink carpet or playing with yarn.

  Sunflower smacked the keyboard. “Look at that smut! It’s a good thing kittens are banned from using SpaceBook. Some of these female cats probably came from good families, and that just makes me sick.”

  “Okaaay. Your hangups with yarn aside, it’s just a bunch of ads.”

  “A bunch of ads? This obscene trash will take me ten minutes to delete. If it’s not ads, it’s status updates from cats that don’t exist doing things that don’t exist in places that don’t exist!”

  “Cats that don’t exist?”

  Sunflower rubbed his face. He sighed and began clicking at the ads on his screen, deleting them one by one.

  “Honestly, we know very little about the SpaceBook drones. Most of the ads are in Cat French, while others are in English, so it can’t be from that far in the future, or the past. We really don’t know where they came from. The reference books within SpaceBook list places that never were, cats that never lived, and planets we’ve never heard of. Some religious figures think SpaceBook is from the same dimension as Katmando. Others say it’s an attempt by other dimensions to contact us.”

  “What about you?”

  Sunflower sniffed. “The drones are cross-dimensional markers for navigation. That’s how the Lady used them, and that’s how we’re going to use them to get you back to your dimension. Beyond that, I have no idea. I would guess that SpaceBook cost so much money when it was built that the original creators had to look around for commercial sponsors. That’s where all the ads and fake status updates came from.”

  “How can you use them for navigation? There are billions of dimensions.”

  Sunflower tapped at the screen filled with ads. “I don’t know why it works, I only know it does. SpaceBook has been around for thousands of years, even before cats left Earth. It’s a trans-dimensional anomaly. Listen––this isn’t the stone age. Dimensional travel has been around for a few decades, but only one-way. The Lady designed the transponders in my chest and all the chests of her operators to tap into the nearest SpaceBook relay. Otherwise, we’d never be able to return to her ship with a haul of treasure.”

  Amy shook her head. “I know that I’m talking to a cat inside a spaceship full of holographic walls that can read my mind, but this SpaceBook thing is too far-out.”

  The display beeped, and Sunflower clicked another key.

  “Far-out or not, here’s the weather report. Sunny and clear, as always.”

  “Thanks for the update. How long until we get there?”

  “Twelve hours.”

  “Great. I need to check on that lizard the Lady made us bring on board. Hope he hasn’t eaten anyone.”

  DETENTION OFFICER First Class Nistra, former staff member of the High-security Anti-recidivist Lengthy Penitentiary and proud member of the proudest race of laboratory-grown lizards in the galaxy, glanced nervously over his shoulder.

  The cramped library contained three cubicles with individual keyboards and display screens mounted on the bulkhead. Nistra had chosen the furthest from the hatch, a screen partly concealed by the wall of the next cubicle, and had scattered an entire box of disgusting human breakfast cereal on the floor to serve as an early warning for intruders. Even with those precautions, the scaly reptile found himself staring at the closed hatch more than the screen.

  “Who is the Lady?” he whispered to the display. “Reduce volume of answer.”

  “The Lady is the captain of The White Star,” said the ship.

  “Is Amy Armstrong the Lady?”

  “That statement is correct. The human female named Amy Armstrong who is presently on board this craft is the Lady.”

  Video snapped to life on the screen, showing Amy leaving Sunflower’s room.

  “How? The Lady is hundreds of years old and half machine! I was in the same room with both of them.”

  “Amy Armstrong is the Lady.”

  “But … who is the Lady? What is she?”

  Hundreds of images appeared rapidly on the screen. Amy at a variety of ages, across a spectrum of backgrounds and activities. Young and old, happy and sad, full of life and with a changing amount of artificial limbs. At the extreme end of old age, her lower body had been replaced with an obsidian sphere and the artificial legs of a giant arachnid.

  “The Lady is a pan-dimensional arrangement of DNA molecules into a female homo sapiens organism,” said the ship. “The Lady resonates at the same universal background frequency as the nanites within my systems, and therefore, our co-habitance is most pleasing.”

  Nistra bared his sharp teeth. “What does that even mean?”

  “It means I’m not allergic to her.”

  “If she’s always the Lady, and the Lady is always the captain, what happens when she dies?”

  The screen snapped to black.

  “After a period of mourning, the search begins for a new Lady. Transmat across many dimensions may be required.”

  “How do you return from those dimensions?”

  “The assumption underlying your question is incorrect. A return is neither possible or necessary.”

  Nistra scratched his chin. “Can anyone else be the captain of this ship?”

  “The Lady is the captain of the White Star. If the Lady is not present other organisms could be considered, but only if they have an updated resume.”

  “Was that a joke?”

  “Yes.”

  “So … just to be clear, nobody else can be the captain except Amy Armstrong?”

  “That is correct.”

  “Does this ship have an armory?”

  “No.”

  “Weapons locker?”

  “No.”

  “A sharp stick?”

  “No.”

  Nistra glanced back at the hatch. “Does the Lady keep a log or a diary? Display the most recent.”

  The screen in front of the sauro displayed the wrinkled face and tightly braided gray hair of the Lady, the one who had exiled Nistra to this ship. For a long moment the Lady simply blinked at the screen.

  “I don’t know what to say,” she murmured. “This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. You’ve been the center of so many firsts in my life, along with so many lasts.” The Lady bowed her head. “Without your skin and healing nanites, dear friend, I would have died long ago and joined Philip in that vast, inter-dimensional nothingness. I don’t speak lightly of these matters. It was not an easy decision to transfer the stasis-frozen Kepler Prime in your power core to my new base.”

  Nistra pounded the console with his scaly fist. “What?!!”

  “I feel like I’ve cut the heart from my own mother,” continued the image of the Lady. “But no other path is open, no other energy source available to power the interior of the huge asteroid we’ve found. You can’t imagine what I can do with that many transmat chambers! The riches are limitless.” The Lady touched the screen with a wrinkled palm. “Sleep, dear friend. You’ve deserved it.”

  The image of the old woman faded to black.

  Nistra shook his head, his sharp-toothed jaws open in shock.

  “Kepler Prime in the power core … bless the egg, how is that possible?”

  The hatch whisked open behind him, and the room filled with a loud crunch and crackle.

  “What the H-E-hockey sticks?” yelled Amy. “Who spilled corn flakes on the floor?”

  Nistra stood up and bowed. “I was looking for food and accidentally broke a container of the disgusting stuff. I am completely at fault, my lady.”

  Amy frowned and jammed her fists on her waist. “What did you call me?”

  “Nothing, A
my! Uh … Miss Captain! Captain Armstrong!”

  “That’s better. Why would you eat in the library, anyway?”

  Nistra shrugged, looking sheepish. “It’s a … custom of my people?”

  “Gross! Grab a broom from your closet slash bedroom slash pigpen and clean up the mess. Food doesn’t belong in the library or on the floor. You might want to write that down, because it’s a custom of MY people.”

  The lizard smiled with pointy yellow teeth and bowed from the waist.

  “By your command.”

  Amy squinted at the sauro for a long moment, then shook her head and left.

  “Whatever. I’m taking a nap.”

  Chapter Four

  Amy felt a warm glow on her cheek.

  She lay under the pale blue sheets of a hospital bed, sunshine flickering from the open window and over her face. With half-open eyes, she watched the green leaves of a maple tree flutter in the breeze, the waving branches sounding like the crash of waves on a distant beach. She wished she could see the ocean.

  “Too late,” said a young woman’s voice.

  At the foot of the bed stood a fourteen-year-old Asian girl. Her bangs were as sharp and straight as the pleats in the skirt of her school uniform.

  “Helen?” Amy whispered hoarsely.

  “Too late,” said a teenage boy.

  Tony glared down at Amy from the left side of the bed, his jaw clenched.

  “Always too late,” he said.

  Amy swallowed, trying to clear the sandpaper from her throat. “Late for what?”

  Billy, Anna, Viv, and Eugenia rose from behind Tony and spoke all together.

  “Too late!”

  A heaviness pressed the mattress at Amy’s feet. Her foster mother wore a hospital gown, her short brown hair was matted, and dark circles framed her eyes. Lucia stared at Amy and shook her head slowly.

  “Too late,” she whispered.

  Amy lay back on her puffy hospital pillow and sighed. “This is a nightmare, isn’t it?”

  The individuals around the bed glanced at each other.

  “Duh,” said Tony. “What did you think it was?”

  “Aren’t you scared?” asked Lucia. “She’s supposed to be scared. Boo!”

  Amy pounded her fists on the bed. “I hate nightmares!”

  She opened her eyes. A red light pulsed on the ceiling of the captain’s quarters and a faint beeping came from the wall. Amy covered her face with both hands and let out a long, body-shaking groan.

  “Apologies for the alarm, Miss Armstrong,” said the ship. “We are approaching the L2 orbital boundary for Tau Ceti. You requested that I wake you before planetfall.”

  “L2 boundary? What’s that?”

  “A point in space around a gravitational mass where an orbit is the most stable. L2 is a common location for orbital stations, planetary interdiction forces, and duty-free shopping.”

  “Duty-free shopping? Was that a joke?”

  “No.”

  Amy brushed her hair in the small mirror of the captain’s bathroom, and pulled at her tight spandex uniform, trying to adjust it to feel less like a sausage skin.

  “Ugh! Why do I have to wear this stupid get-up? I look like a reject from the drive-in theater!”

  “My lady, you are not required to wear the prophylactic garments.”

  “Why not?”

  “I am not allergic to you.”

  “What about the others?”

  “I am allergic to the others.”

  Amy shrugged. “What else am I supposed to wear? That stupid orange jumpsuit from the prison smells like a farm and I didn’t exactly bring a suitcase full of clothes with me. I didn’t bring any clothes, actually. The lizards took my London dress, so that prison jumpsuit was all I had.”

  “No need for concern, my lady,” said the ship. “Your clothes are here.”

  A section of the bulkhead slid to the right, revealing a walk-in closet four meters deep. Amy wandered inside, staring in wonder at the racks of clothing along the walls.

  “Wow! Amazing, Blanche, but these aren’t mine. I’ve never seen any of these skirts or dresses before.”

  “You are the captain and these garments have always belonged to her.”

  Amy rubbed the silky fabric of a white, long-sleeved blouse between her fingers.

  “With so many clothes, at least a couple should fit me.”

  “All of the garments will fit, my lady.”

  “There’s the power of positive thinking. You sound like my mom––that one fits you, this one looks fine, why are you girls so picky, blah, blah, blah.”

  Amy grabbed the bottom of her spandex top and pulled it over her head. She flipped through the rack of silky blouses and chose a white long-sleeved t-shirt that felt like it was made of cotton. She stuck her arms into the sleeves first and pulled it over her head. The hem of the blouse fell almost to her knees and the sleeves were a foot too long.

  Amy waved the floppy arms of the blouse at the ceiling. “See what I mean?”

  “The garment will adjust, my Lady.”

  “That’s what they all say. Wait––what?”

  As Amy watched, the sleeves, hem, and sides of the garment shrank into a comfortable, close fit.

  “Calibration finished,” said the ship.

  Amy held up her wrist and stared at the cotton material. “Don’t tell me this thing is alive or full of robots or aliens or anything. That would freak me out.”

  “As requested, this information will not be disclosed.”

  “Thank you. Ignorance is bliss and all that.”

  Amy stripped off her spandex trousers. After opening all the drawers in the room, she found tights and underwear in a drawer labeled “Kilot.” Another drawer labeled “Jip” was packed with folded skirts. Yet another held vests.

  Amy chose a pleated skirt in dark blue plaid––similar to her school uniform––and a dark navy pair of tights. A pair of black Mary Janes shrank around her feet and completed the outfit.

  Amy stared into a full-length mirror along one side of the small room, and shook her head.

  “This skirt is way too long. I’m not in Sunday school.”

  The hem of the plaid garment swiftly rose from below her knees to a scandalous height that was probably illegal and that not even the trampiest of the trampiest cheerleaders would wear.

  Amy pulled down on the hem frantically with both hands. “I’m sorry! Good skirt! You’re the best.”

  The hem lowered to a respectable two inches above her knees.

  “I would advise my lady to speak only in a positive tone about her garments,” said the ship. “The clothing will protect against many dangers and hazardous environments, but is a brand with high self-esteem.”

  Amy looked down at her dark blue tights and rubbed the fabric. “Great … I mean, great! These are the best clothes I’ve ever had!”

  “My Lady is wise and thoughtful, as always.”

  “What about accessories?”

  Several drawers clicked out of the wall and displayed carefully-organized rows of hair bands, barrettes, bangles, bracelets, rings, and necklaces.

  Amy found a black ribbon to tie back her long blonde hair and a leather vest in the same color. The buttons were silver and the material worn. Four small pockets were sewn on the front.

  Amy donned the vest and nodded at her reflection.

  “Okay, Blanche! Off to the cockpit.”

  “I am not familiar with this term. Please proceed to the navigation room. The other crew members have already gathered there.”

  SUNFLOWER TURNED at the faint swish of the hatch.

  “Hey, everyone––look who decided to join us.”

  Philip smiled and raised a hand to his forehead. “Amy, how are you? I see you found something fashionable to wear. Very smart.”

  Nick stood on Philip’s shoulder and buzzed her wings angrily. “Why does she get new clothes and I have this dumb red uniform?”

  “That’s a good questi
on,” said Sunflower, scratching at his spandex bodysuit. “Maybe she thinks she’s special.”

  “She IS special,” said Philip.

  Sunflower shook his head. “Not like that, lover boy.”

  “I think she looks nice!” barked Betsy, and chased his tail.

  A gigantic blue planet covered in swirling clouds slowly rotated below the feet of Philip, Sunflower, Betsy, and Nick. The entire group seemed to float in mid-air around the low cylinder of the navigational control console.

  Amy held her breath and walked across the invisible, holographic floor.

  “I think it’s funny that everyone cares so much about what I’m wearing when you’re floating above an alien planet!”

  “It’s not an alien planet,” said Sunflower. “That’s my home world below us––Tau Ceti Epsilon.”

  Nick giggled. “Where a tiny little kitten grew up to be mean old cat.”

  “Whatever,” said Sunflower. “Anyway, we don’t care what you’re wearing––we care about the stupid red uniforms that WE have to wear.”

  “I’m taking mine off!” barked Betsy. The dog grabbed his trousers with his teeth and fell onto his back, his legs waving in the air.

  Philip placed a hand on his chest and bowed formally.

  “I care what you’re wearing, Amy, and you look smashing.”

  Amy smiled. “Thank you. See, Sunflower? Somebody cares.”

  The orange tabby covered his mouth with a paw. “Keep it up with the disgusting love talk, and I’ll be sick all over these controls. That won’t be good for the electronics.”

  “Please do not release fluid or remove assigned clothing,” said the motherly voice of the ship. “The probability of my having an allergic reaction will increase exponentially.”

  “Can’t be as bad as wearing this embarrassing gear,” said Sunflower. “What happens when a ship gets the sniffles?”

  “Allergic response can include sudden expulsion of pressurized atmosphere and the offending material through the nearest airlock,” said the ship.

  Nick buzzed around Sunflower’s head. “She’ll sneeze you into space!”

  “Without protective equipment or encapsulation,” added the ship.

  Sunflower’s red cap was halfway off his head. The cat sighed and pulled it down over his ears.