Star Kitten

by Purple Hazel

  Solomon left that question floating about the room for a moment. No one commented further. The Slarts seemed to be pondering the very blunt honest question. The Earthers all nodded and even grinned like they were getting the point. “Our job is not to send off the Anarchy into deep space and never see it again. Our job is to get it back again, too…. And if we don’t do that, we have failed,” added Solomon powerfully. The Earthers all murmured with sounds of enthused agreement.

  Decapodifor was still confused. But he sighed again and tried to accept the logic of the Chief’s comments. “So Commander… we must disobey Confederation orders to accomplish our task? Is that what you’re… suggesting?” Solomon eyed the honorable and intelligent Slartigifijian calmly. It was vital that his entire staff be totally on board with his thinking. And he most certainly had a plan in mind all along. After all, the Slarts had learned quite a lot both from and about humans since they’d been incarcerated on Rijel 12.

  In a Slart’s intelligent mind, things like ruthless military deception, financial fraud, and hollow political promises were impossible to understand. But what about the results? Now that was something a Slart could grasp completely. Results trumped everything for a Slart.

  Decapodifor and the other Slarts just needed one more piece of the puzzle to connect it all together for them. To see how it all fit into place. The greater purpose had now been stated; the goal had been defined specifically. That’s what they needed to see. The GOAL was to bring back food; and that’s basically what they’d been charged with accomplishing.

  Several squid-like heads began to nod among the Slarts at the table. Solomon then added, “You see, Decapodifor, it is my responsibility as Terminal Chief to send out the Anarchy for food… and to get it back full of food for our planet to eat and survive. That’s the task I’ve been put in charge of, and that’s what I’m ordering the crew…that’s what I’m ordering all of you… to accomplish.”

  Now that was something Slarts could understand: responsibility….

  In Slart culture, to take responsibility for something—to take charge of an operation or to lead an organization to reach a goal—that meant a Slart’s own personal honor and reputation were at stake. Failing in accomplishing the task, or failing to protect those you were responsible for, meant disgrace and ostracism from one’s own community. One either achieved his goal or not. There could be no blaming of subordinates or making excuses about unexpected obstacles. What Solomon was telling the Slarts was this: HE was taking full responsibility for the task of bringing food back to New Australia; so therefore HE must succeed or face the consequences if he did not.

  Once he put it that way, the Slarts had no further compunctions about following his orders….

  With that, Solomon relaxed and sat back in his chair, his hands still clasped much like a man praying to God. “Now… let me show you all what I have in mind,” said Solomon as he heaved a deep sigh. The Slarts continued to flutter their facial tentacles pleasantly and share glances with each other confirming each other’s adherence, while the humans all sat forward in their chairs with excited anticipation….

  Long before this day’s meeting of course, Solomon had taken the time and effort to do a little recruiting among the prison population and managed to enlist a crew of former pirates and cutthroats who knew all about things like raiding ships in deep space. And what better place to look, than New Australia? In a former prison, after all, experienced pirates were quite easy to find… and plentiful!

  His staff in the Terminal command center had never known about this. They just saw him recruiting a crew, and thought nothing of it. But Solomon wasn’t just looking for sailors, crewmen, or merchant fleet men. He wanted bloodthirsty killers who just happened to know how to fly a space ship. His plan was actually to turn the captured ship Anarchy into a pirate ship.

  The tactic Solomon envisioned employing, he told his staff, was a very ancient one indeed: the disguised official transmission, or “false flag”. He just needed to find the right beings to carry it out, that’s all. Solomon knew that the Anarchy was once an Earth ship called the Unity, and all its automatic transponder codes would be picked up on inter-space communications as coming from the former Unity, and its crew. The Unity was once an Earth merchant vessel, and a long time had passed since its capture. By now, few would even remember the name, he assured everyone.

  Solomon said he figured his first recruit had to be the Captain of the ship. Based on that crucial choice, the rest would be quite easy because the Captain would know whom he really needed to recruit to get the job done. And he’d need a good First Mate too, if he found the right being for that job as well. The next task would be even more diabolical: hiding an entire brigade of Pumalar and Earther assault troops in the ship’s hold. The basic idea he had was to lure another ship close enough to dock with the Anarchy, then board the other ship with his troops and slaughter the crew. Pillage the enemy ship for supplies and hand weapons… use the new ship with its full complement of missiles to slowly form an entire fleet of marauding pirate ships for raids.

  He told his staff how he went through about twenty decent candidates before he finally found one rather aged Zorg, named Kcsheeech. This older Zorg was perfect…but far too old to be a Captain anymore. Nevertheless, he would make for an effective First Mate, Solomon surmised. Knowledgeable and experienced, Kcsheeech had ironically once served with Warden Ggggaaah in his own bawdy pirate days many years ago! But whereas Ggggaaah had gone “straight” and went on to become a respectable Zorg galactic Commander (before retiring from Galactic service to run the New Australia Planetary Prison), Kcsheeech had remained a pirate.

  Oh, how Kcsheeech resented his old former friend too! Once the best of friends on board a Zorg Marauder raiding merchant ships all across the galaxy, they parted ways when Ggggaaah’s rich family basically bought his way for him into Zorg Fleet Academy. When Kcsheeech was finally captured several years later during a pitched battle with a Zorg patrol craft, Ggggaaah didn’t even lift a finger to help him. Kcsheeech of course now realized after all these years since then that Ggggaaah’s family most likely overruled any good intentions his old friend might have had about petitioning the court to pardon Kcsheeech. Still: Ggggaaah had the power personally to at the very least bring him on as a crewmember and save him from a death sentence on Rijel 12. He did nothing to help Kcsheeech, and it still saddened him all these many years later.

  Kcsheeech knew quite a lot about pirates and tactics. He told Solomon that Pirates in deep space often found it convenient to give out false names and identification signals when making raids, particularly when approaching a space station. Many pirates experienced in attacking outposts preferred to use captured ships for the initial approach. Captured ships were rarely used in traditional ship-to-ship actions, however. “A shooting battle with another ship is-sss far too dangerous-sss,” said Kcsheeech in his Zorg accent. Solomon could imagine why, too.

  The reputed faked distress call? It rarely worked, Kscheeech argued. Merchants on tight schedules frequently ignored distress signals and simply relayed the message more often than not to attract further investigation by nearby patrol vessels. That could be disastrous. “Besides-sss,” said Kcsheeech, “distress-sss signals would most likely attract other scalawags seeking to make an eeezy score against a damaged and helpless ship.” But that’s ironically when the idea really began to appeal to Solomon!

  Solomon liked this idea best: lure another pirate vessel to the Anarchy and trick them into boarding. Capture their ship and press their crew into service of the Nausties.

  It could work! An unsuspecting pirate vessel would believe them to be the Unity, and cruise right up, thinking they were easy prey.

  “But could our warriors really overwhelm a crew of seasoned pirates?” asked Solomon. Kcsheeech just laughed. “Oh yes-sss, Chief. They’re just pirates-sss after all, not warriors-sss. They’ll be expecting helpless crewmen who’ve rarely even fired an EIC. Go ahead. Let them on board,
the s-ssscum. They’ll be completely unprepared for a real fight.” Solomon grinned and chuckled. He knew he’d truly found his First Mate.

  Then the next task was to pick the right Captain. And Solomon enlisted the help of his newest recruit. For Kcsheeech that was easy. He already knew exactly the right choice for the job: Snout Epididymis. Captain Snout Epididymis, that is… a Porko he’d befriended during the ramp construction.

  Snout was a rather enormous and intimidating creature. Most Porkos were, for that matter. Porkonji usually stood about six feet tall, and some were even taller. Their haunches were slightly crouched, but the power in their legs was incredible. They had to be strong there too, because their arms were relatively week by comparison (just like with humans). They walked much like a hunched over fat old man, but their heads were enormous and their bite was terrifyingly vicious in close order combat. A spear and shield or a hand weapon fired at a distance were all they needed to compete effectively in a fire-fight, but close in, they could simply bite off limbs or chomp the neck of an enemy rendering him helpless.

  Snout had been a Commander on a Porkonji freighter, which had occasionally dabbled in smuggling over the years before Snout found himself on the wrong side in an organized crime war between two rival Mobsters. He became the fall guy, when officials apprehended him and offered him a deal to rat out the rest of the gang leaders whom he’d been smuggling for. Snout, being a rather powerful and arrogant Porko to begin with… accustomed to giving orders and not being bossed around by anyone… basically told the investigators to go fuck themselves. Oh how he regretted it later, when the courts sentenced him to ten years at NAPP; but he also knew in the grand scheme of things, he was far safer in prison than he was back on planet Porkonji if those mobsters got hold of him!

  Now after three years on Rijel 12—slimmed way down and very lean—Snout was a very intimidating physical specimen. Best of all, he knew all too well how to whip a crew into shape, give commands that sailors would follow without question, and maneuver a space craft skillfully.

  Solomon told his staff in the Command Center, “I knew right from the first day Snout accepted command that I’d picked the right Captain.” Snout’s barking commands and immense knowledge of the ship’s controls, maneuvering capabilities, and hull/speed limitations were stunningly impressive. It was like Snout had never even left the bridge of his old freighter. After a few days altering the furniture to fit the big Porko comfortably, the new Captain looked like he felt right at home. Solomon said he just chuckled to himself and looked down at Kcsheeech, who smiled a toothy grin right back up at him. “Yep… good choice, Keech,” was all that Solomon said (pronouncing Zorg names was next to impossible for Solomon so he just said "Keech" to save time).

  Then he just left the ship and let Kcsheeech and Snout do their thing. Solomon’s rule when it came to delegating was when you find the right people you can trust with a job, you stay the hell out of their way and just let them get right to it.

  And that’s how he explained it all to his staff of now-acquiescent Slarts and thoroughly pleased humans a few days before launch. The humans all smiled and the Slarts fluttered their facial tentacles. It all made sense to them now.

  All this time they’d been working on coordinating the rehabbing of the terminal, preparing the ship to go trading with planet Porkonji. Now they were amazed to find Solomon had been going around recruiting scalawags and cutthroats to man the Anarchy and instead go on a pirate raid the whole time. But with Solomon’s great skill at explaining things and being respectful of his staff members’ cultural practices and instincts; he now had their unanimous approval.

  Indeed, soon the whole planet would know, and everyone else would gradually start finding out throughout the galaxy (even if they didn’t yet know the true origin of the threat): New Australia was to be launching its first pirate ship… and Solomon’s humble command center would soon become the secret headquarters of the galaxy’s most fearsome new space pirates.

  Chapter 12:

  Another Year Passes by on Star Pussy

  "Good evening Pumalar, I'm Tabby Calico and this... is IPN News," said the disembodied voice of a news anchorperson on a TV screen in the lounge area next to Rex's restaurant on Star Pussy.

  Anxious, fast-paced news show music blared from the speakers as the female Pumalar pivoted her chair to face a different camera, and a small window onscreen popped up this time showing a pirate flag—attached to a sword—superimposed over the picture of some unknown planet in deep space. A small crowd of people sat disinterested, awaiting their names to be called announcing their table was ready. Few of them were really listening to the news initially as it blared from a giant video screen on the wall, next to the even more gigantic fish tank where Rex kept his exotic assortment of ocean creatures for customers to select their meal.

  However within a few minutes many would have their eyes riveted to the broadcast….

  "At the top of the news today, the galaxy is again rocked by the news of yet another pirate raid on a remote space colony," continued Tabby as the frenetic music faded out. Her smiling face had now faded to a look of deep concern. Tabby paused and then went on reading the teleprompter, "Interplanetary Authorities on Porkonji report that their deep space colony Frabrak 3 has been raided and sacked by the crew of an unknown ship, believed by some to be the former Earth freighter Unity, which was captured by rioting prisoners during the revolt on Rijel 12 two years ago. As our viewers may recall, this riot led to the complete overthrow of prison authority and also the presumed massacre of its entire garrison and mining staff."

  Tabby Calico maintained her stone faced seriousness as she seemed to be trying to hide her own morbid fascination with the story. She continued, "Reports of pirate activity have increased dramatically over the past several months as space freighters and even a few passenger ships have been hit by pirate vessels while traveling in deep space between planets. Crews and passengers have been brutalized, captured, and murdered. Ships have been plundered, and in many cases actually disappeared completely from Inter-planetary space never to be heard from again. Presumptions about the fate of these vessels have ranged from pirates scuttling the crafts, to some believing the ships have been pressed into pirate service; and even a few government officials have confided, on condition of anonymity, that the pirates may have been building up a fleet of raiders to eventually challenge galactic Star Fleets. Officially, the Interplanetary Authority denies these theories as mere exaggerations and irresponsible rumors."

  Tabby then pivoted her seat again to look at a different camera, and with a forced-smile, introduced a second creature sitting next to her... another much younger and spectacularly gorgeous female Pumalar named Patty Persian. Tabby eyed her younger more voluptuous and striking colleague with just a bare hint of jealousy, then said with a slightly insincere smile, "With us now is Patty Persian with an investigative report on this ever-expanding story. What can you tell us, Patty?"

  Patty Persian purred with respectful acknowledgment, but only for a brief moment (much like the way human women will give that all too familiar faked kindly smile toward another female human whom they deem to be their rival). Then she looked right at the camera. It was her moment to shine, after all, and she didn't need the venerated older she-cat's interaction or endorsement just to lend legitimacy to Patty’s hard-earned story. Young Patty knew she'd gained the chance of a lifetime to do this powder keg of a report, and it had taken her months to bed down with enough Pumalar Network executives to get her shot at it, that was for sure. She eyed the camera with a delighted fire in her eyes for a moment.

  "Thanks... Tabby," said Patty not even looking at her, merely blinking sideways in her general direction. Hell, in a few years, if she played her cards right, she'd likely be sitting in THAT chair anyway. Tabby Calico was nearing thirty... middle age for most any Pumalar female. Someday the network would be making a change.

  Thus Patty began her report saying, "Some time ago, it's now been di
scovered, Interplanetary Officials detected an interstellar distress call from a freighter identifying itself as the doomed Earth Cruiser Unity. The transponder identity was clearly that of the now infamous ship, and the senders of the message claimed they were its surviving crew now desperately in need of assistance. Patrol ships responded to the area, but found no trace of the ship or any evidence of debris indicating the ship might have destructed. At first the assumption was that other pirates might have gotten there first to feast on the supposedly disabled craft, then towed it away to some secret base for repairs. Then several weeks after that, planet officials on Earth reported yet another missing food freighter heading back to Earth from a distant space station farm facility in the Zorgolong star system. This ship and all its crew, cargo, and passengers were never seen nor heard from again."

  Patty now stood up from her chair, which was something Tabby Calico NEVER did of course (no doubt wanting to hide her expanding tummy from the cameras and keep ratings sky high with her big furry breasts and kindly, maternal-looking face). Not so with Patty, she had the body that male Pumalars craved; and she wanted everyone in the galaxy watching this broadcast to see it. She was a beauty. Adorable curves and fluffy snow white fur, teased out like a lion's mane. She worked it well too, slowly rising and gesturing toward a gigantic GREEN SCREEN behind her which now had imposed on itself a map of the galaxy with names written in curving letters over the planets Pumalar, Zorgolong, and Porkonji. It also had markings on it indicating the locations of various sites where events had occurred.