Star Kitten

by Purple Hazel

  Kscheeech went on, "You s-sssee Humans just took this a step further than all of us-sss, by creating a ceremony which recognizes the lifelong union of two people... and they respect it back on Earth ... they believe in it… this institution of marriage. It's ingrained in the very culture of their s-ssspecies." Then he smiled broadly, and added, “It’s-sss quite beautiful actually… this-sss partnership between two people: lifelong true love and intimacy.”

  That’s basically all he needed to say; and Felina now totally understood. He had learned to just make a simple statement of explanation; and Felina would almost always be able to grasp it quickly. He’d just pause and let it sink in with her. She’d look deeply into his eyes for a few moments… inevitably repeat back the very essence of what he’d just taught her. And yet… she’d do so in such a way that conveyed his own thoughts and beliefs even better than he could have expressed them himself.

  It wasn’t because of some immense wisdom or anything like that. She could simply detect the inner feelings behind all the words a person or being spoke.

  “I see, Keech,” said Felina with a bright warm smile. “It’s a symbolic combining of two people into one, is what you’re describing: one person completing the other person... both emotionally and spiritually.” She clutched her hands together with fingers interlocking, to represent this concept. She added, “They’re partners for the rest of their lives; supporting each other and caring for each other… and yet this union is also recognized by the society around them... officially and legally. Man… and … wife.” She emphasized the words by unclasping and re-clasping her hands; signifying two parts making a whole.

  How could he have said it any better? This was exactly correct and even echoed back to the exact words of the earliest writings of human culture, including even the Torah, the Holy Bible, and the Koran. Kscheeech had learned of these writings several years before on New Australia when he encountered an all “Muslim” gang called the “Inshallah” (which means basically “If God Wills It” in Arabic). For many years they’d been a very pious and deeply religious gang that accepted black men from Africa, Europe, or the Americas. Their abstinence from promiscuous sexuality had been quite remarkable… even after human females were being captured and actively traded among tribes. Other tribes just couldn’t understand it! But in their view, God had punished them all severely for their crimes back on Earth. This, according to their beliefs, was why they’d been sent to Rijel 12 to die. Taunting almighty God any further with sinful behavior—warned the Inshallah Tribe—could in all likelihood mean terrible retribution some day for everyone on New Australia.

  Kscheeech always wondered if in fact the prophetic Inshallahs might have been right all along. Maybe some Nausties should have paid more heed to them!

  Felina just smiled and looked up at the gigantic wall video monitor displaying views of space in front of them. Kscheeech said nothing more… he just let her dream of her new life ahead on New Australia; and the man she was about to meet.

  • • •

  The Voyage of the Anarchy

  After seeing the rest of the fleet bugging out, and having just intercepted inter-space communications indicating Star Fleet was indeed on the way, the Naustie pirate fleet's flag ship the Anarchy took off on—what was intended to be—a wild goose chase. Only in this case, The Anarchy was the actual “goose” being “chased”.

  The rest of the fleet loyally waited in the distance for the ships docking on Star Pussy to finally disembark and head home. They'd been listening to local electronic communications traffic also (from and between Star Pussy Police units) and determined that most Police were withdrawing or retreating. This was how they knew whether the attack had been successful. Though joyful at the early indications of victory, they'd stayed put in case Star Fleet showed up (that was their duty). However once the remainder of the fleet saw the Varanus departing the station and heading toward New Australia... all bets were off! They scattered in practically every direction possible.

  But not the Anarchy. No, Admiral Snout's crew had been monitoring inter-space communications coming from many light years away the entire time; and as the hours passed, it became clearer and clearer that an entire Interplanetary Authority squadron was coming their way; speeding toward Star Pussy apparently in great haste! This was really bad news indeed, and really the last thing they needed right now.

  Typically a Star Fleet Squadron would consist of a Battleship, two Fighter Carriers; and a few Destroyers. Maybe some Cruisers, supply ships, etc., would be included as well. And the Naustie pirate fleet? Well, they had nothing like that. Made up solely of converted freighters and captured space cruisers; their small ships would certainly be no match for Star Fleet. A Star Fleet Squadron might include up to ten warships sometimes. Seven typically; with the Battleship being the mobile central headquarters of the fleet; commanded typically by a Fleet Admiral.

  Battleships were basically too big to be defeated by anything else in space; and they were built the size of a small city. On top of that, several Destroyers escorted a Battleship along its flanks, to fend off any attempts to attack it. But this was hardly necessary because even without escorts, a battleship could fend off most anything in space besides maybe a large asteroid.

  A Squadron also typically included Fighter Carriers which could launch a hundred or so short range fighters to be used in attacking any enemy fleet. They could even be used in devastating an enemy planet's surface installations and defensive positions, enabling Destroyers and Cruisers to land and deploy assault troops. Star Fleet fighter pilots were basically the elite of the elite; and matchless in close fighter combat. In surface battles, they were quite deadly in bringing the battle right up close and personal to the enemy, capable also of tactical bombing vital enemy industries and resources.

  Snout knew exactly what was going to happen if he didn't take action. That Squadron had likely been assembled for one purpose and one purpose only... to track down this pirate fleet all the way to its base; and eliminate all its ships. But how was a force this large assembled and outfitted for combat so quickly? How could they have been ready so fast and deployed in less than two days? Could Star Fleet really have been tracking the whole fleet through deep space and detected their Ship2ship communications? If so, how, wondered Snout?

  Reality was, unbeknownst to Admiral Snout, intercepted Ship2ship communications exchanges between the Chengshi prior to docking with the Anarchy and being raided two days before; had raised suspicion back at Star Fleet. First of all, transponder readings for the two craft didn't make sense. The ship hailing the Chengshi didn't come up on Interplanetary Authority registry anymore, and IPA officials on Pumalar later denied any claims of a major family patriarch passing away on their planet. Ironically, despite all Naustie efforts to scramble their messages and plan their attack so carefully, Star Fleet already knew something was amiss; and began mustering this squadron days before. Now it all started to make sense to him. The Interplanetary Authority had been waiting for this attack all along. The Nausties had finally taken one chance too many.

  Hell, Star fleet probably had no intention of saving Star Pussy. Never crossed their minds, Snout would have wagered. And why would they anyway? They wouldn't give two shits about a galactic floating brothel, no matter how many distress calls they sent during the attack. If anything, the doomed former space station was—to Star Fleet—a decoy to draw the pirate fleet into a trap; a mere lure to identify where the pirates were heading afterward just so that Star Fleet could eventually hunt them down to their base.

  The Nausties' avoidance of using Inter-space communication channels and maintaining radio silence in Ship-to-ship communications meant that Star Fleet's task was all the more complicated trying to find them in the past. But the command center of a Star Fleet Battleship was in actuality a truly diabolical operation; as Snout well knew. Banks of computers with a hundred assorted crewmembers monitoring and deducing information, meant they could triangulate the origin of most an
y electronic communication within space... even Intercom announcements sent inside an enemy craft (if within range). A Battleship could track a fleeing enemy for hundreds of thousands of miles through space. Once a Battleship's tracking devices found an enemy ship; they could follow it throughout the universe for months (even infinitely if they wished to). They merely needed to set the ship's computers to pursue it; and just wait patiently until their prey tried to land somewhere; or ran out of food on board.

  A Battleship could do such things; and the only reason a full squadron hadn't been deployed yet, was just sheer bureaucratic red tape on the part of the Interplanetary Authority. Such a massive undertaking was difficult for the different planets in the IPA to commit to; and the resources necessary to mobilize such a fleet were quite expensive indeed. Besides it was time consuming. It had been several months in the making: organizing the fleet, outfitting it, manning its crews, and choosing a commander for it; but the increase in raids over the past year and the public outcry over it, had pressured the IPA to finally take action.

  Snout could tell from Star Fleet inter-space communication traffic, that a force was heading their way which could wipe them all out if engaged in combat; or even worse track them back to New Australia if they tried to escape. And even though the plan for the Star Pussy raid had always been to take separate routes home in the aftermath of the battle, this also meant one very cold hard truth that only Admiral Snout could really have fully grasped, and few others would have considered.

  ONE ship would have to end up (in all likelihood ) being tracked down by Star Fleet and destroyed—no matter how hard they tried to confuse their pursuers. There was no denying it. No matter how clever they all were, once a Star Fleet battleship had identified at least one Naustie ship and tracked it; that ship was doomed. Admiral Snout began to realize what he now had to do.

  HIS ship, the Anarchy—the flagship of the whole Naustie Fleet—would have to be the bait. The Anarchy would have to be the Fox, getting hunted by a pack of angry Bloodhounds. It was the only way, and Admiral Snout bloody well knew it. Someone would have to be sacrificed; and just like any brave commander he just couldn't leave this task to someone else.

  After all, only Admiral Snout knew how to navigate through the galaxy and lead that battle squadron on an endless futile chase. He was the most skilled commander of any ship in the Pirate Fleet, by far. Even Kscheeech lacked the kind of experience Snout had. Oh, Kscheeech might have been quite skilled in sniffing out most any ambush. He knew when it was time to cash in the chips, so to speak, and get the hell out. But this was different. Once detected by a Battleship Squadron, only Snout knew just exactly how to keep Star Fleet quite busy chasing the Anarchy for months (if that's what it took).

  And so that's exactly what Snout did. He actually flew the Anarchy directly toward the Star Fleet Squadron heading toward Star Pussy; and waited to hear inter-space communication traffic coming from Star Fleet ships indicating that the Anarchy had indeed been detected. Once accomplished, Snout then turned his ship toward deep space (in quite nearly the complete opposite direction of New Australia) and raced away at top speed.

  As he explained it to his crew sitting nearby him on the bridge, "Now that they've detected us; let's give them a real chase; shall we?" His men laughed and gave a few affirmative responses, but many still wondered what the Admiral was really up to. Not but a few really knew the true mess Snout had purposely gotten them all into. And even those few wondered just how crazy their Admiral might really be after all!

  Snout told his communications officer Brilly to open up full ship intercom systems so the Admiral could make an announcement to the crew. Brilly hesitated for a moment, baffled, thinking that if they did that, wouldn’t Star Fleet sensors pick up the communication and be able to intercept the message? With Star Fleet this close to them; merely a few million miles away, they could practically hear a crewman fart if they listened hard enough.

  Snout glared at him for a second or two... until Brilly began to understand the true purpose. Obviously the Admiral was expecting Star Fleet to hear the communication and this was just another dirty trick he was playing. Snout was famous for those. Brilly's eyes widened and he gave a big gasping "OH YEAH" look. Then he scrambled to open up the ship's entire internal communication system for the Admiral's announcement. Snout said slowly, loudly, and clearly, "This is the captain speaking... we're setting a course for Earth star system. I repeat, we're setting a course for Earth star system. All crewmen shall prepare for deep space conditions and rationing of supplies... that is all."

  Snout knew the Star Fleet Squadron would scramble to pursue him. His was the first ship detected; and the enemy Fleet Admiral would never break up the Squadron to pursue other leads either. That was not Star Fleet protocol. He had only about 300 left of his original crew anyway; plus pressed labor from the males captured off the Chengshi. So he still had food enough left over to supply practically an entire Brigade for two months in space. That's because he'd transferred the Smilodon Brigade onto the captured Chengshi when it was ambushed; plus half his original crew to operate it. True, he'd also taken on about fifty new female prisoners from the Chengshi as well, but those he figured he'd put to work operating the ship's kitchens... once his crew had enjoyed their favors for a while; of course. That was the least he could do for them. They were going to be in space for a very long time.

  Essentially, Snout looked forward to testing his amazing knowledge of the galaxy and matching wits with the Fleet Admiral of the Battleship chasing him. Every day that he eluded them and stayed alive; was indeed a victory. And it would end gallantly… most likely in a duel to the death between equals. That idea suited Snout just fine. An honorable death for him and his crew, with the safety of his home planet assured. He felt young and defiant once again; just like in his youth. He'd once told an IPA official years ago, to go fuck himself when the Agent offered him a chance to rat out his mob contacts in exchange for a lighter sentence. Now, for a moment anyway, he as that brash young Porkonji again, telling the IPA to shove it. “Bring it on, you bastards,” muttered Snout to himself as he snorted arrogantly.

  It put him in a great mood thinking about the upcoming chase… and besides: Snout had first dibs on all the captured females to be distributed to the crew. He'd take his time and pick a really nice plump girl (or two) to be brought to his cabin—that’s what he told himself. Yes, that would be really nice… once they got a nice big lead on Star Fleet for a few days anyway.

  • • •

  The Voyage of the Warthog

  The Warthog took off from Star Pussy with 175 male prisoners and over three hundred female human body workers they’d captured in the Human Environs. Counting the crew and the remaining Arian Knights Brigade, the ship carried about 2100 beings from four different species. It was a very crowded ship with little room to get around inside.

  Of course the troops and crew had every intention of preserving these human prisoners as best as possible during the journey, because returning to New Australia with that big of a haul of new slaves could be quite likely very profitable for the Arian Knights; not to mention prestigious for their General, Vlad "the Impaler". So they kept the prisoners safe in the cargo hold among the plunder taken from Star Pussy. Dead or damaged prisoners would be worth nothing, after all.

  That said, the Arian Knights did keep fifty of the best looking males all for themselves to enjoy; plus the practical equivalent of a warehouse-full of liquor. Both of these could be “thoroughly consumed,” said their commander. And with that the warriors of the Arian Knights quickly started in on their share of the “plunder”… with great earnest actually! Cases of liquor were opened and distributed indiscriminately to both captor AND captive; and soon the party in the troop section of the ship got right under way.

  The trash bins quite quickly filled with empty bottles and keg barrels, which could be dumped into space once they got far from Star Pussy and were sure they weren’t being tailed. That was a good th
ing too; because the cargo hold was packed to the gills with hundreds of cases full of booze. Whiskey, Vodka, Rum, Tequila, Catnip Ale; and even some fine wines had been carted away from the Earth Environ on Star Pussy. Frankly it was far more than even the hard-partying troops in the Arian Knights Brigade could consume. Even with the crew pitching in (hell, even with the prisoners helping out) it would take a month to drink it all; given the circumstances.

  Vlad for his part kept one of the best, cleanest and most spectacular males all for himself and basically just made the young man his own personal consort. No objections there of course. Phillip was the muscled hunk's name; and yes the handsome young man of 22 was certainly terrified of the grizzled, tattooed, scarred-up General (at first). Most definitely, he was. But after about a week, the two became quite cozy together. Before long it really looked like Phillip was enjoying the arrangement! Soon they were downright inseparable. And why wouldn't they be, really? The bronzed and sculpted young man figured out quite quickly that Vlad was actually a very powerful and influential man on the ship. He was powerful within the Pirate Army as well, and back on the Pirates' home planet of New Australia: Vlad was the "Chieftain of an entire tribe", the other Nausties said.

  Besides all that, the young man's profession was that of a male escort. It was his job to entertain male clients—of any species. This was just another client, essentially. But what a great client to have; especially if the rippling-muscled bar-bell boy could keep the relationship going. Being the new "partner" of the leader of one of the most powerful tribes on New Australia? Now that was definitely a much safer alternative to what those fifty selected male slaves were enduring down in the troop section with the Arian Knights tribesmen. Down there, his fellow male prisoners were most certainly being put through their paces. Once those cases of Whiskey and Rum got distributed to the Arian Knights; the party was in full swing; and it just never stopped!