Star Kitten

by Purple Hazel

  Vlad of course heard of the Ship-to-Ship message sent from Chengshi to try and find those three men (Randall, Charles, and Luis) and keep them safe; but he knew it wouldn't be necessary. He didn't reply to it; and no reply was necessary or requested. It was just a message sent to the ship; and the Captain passed it onto Vlad. Duly noted in the log, that's all they did with it. No... General Vlad's plan for all the new prisoners—and his victorious troops and crew—was far, far better anyway: Vlad was going to suggest to the Captain of the Warthog that they take a "little detour" on the way home....

  Not long after they disembarked, the Captain of the vessel... a Porkonji nick-named Razorback (his real name was actually Razzelbrach), was quite surprised one evening (if not just a little perturbed) to find General Vlad barging onto the bridge of the ship, about 36 hours into the journey. "My Captain, may I suggest an alternative," began Vlad. Razorback snorted and nodded with a polite—if not slightly annoyed grin. True, the Captain was surprised at first... and perhaps even a bit miffed at the intrusion; but mostly he figured the General might still be a little inebriated from the constant party going on in the Troop section of the ship. Razorback didn't protest though, even if the ugly human’s breath did still smell a lot like Vodka. Vlad, after all, was always such the charmer—especially when he wanted something.

  Vlad was standing shoulder to shoulder with his new consort Phillip; both of them all clean and scrubbed down. They’d come straight from Vlad's private quarters and a refreshing shower together, no doubt. Though tilting and leaning on his young bronzed Adonis a bit, Vlad did bow and tilt his head slightly in deference to the Captain in command of the ship. So smooth and suave he was, despite being quite downright terrifying-looking (even by Russian standards). Nevertheless, Vlad boldly straightened up and explained his plan:

  "Why go straight home?" he queried, then paused a moment to let the rhetorical question sink in a bit. Vlad grinned slyly showing off his crooked gray teeth. "You see, Captain Razorback; Star Fleet will be hunting far and wide for all the Naustie pirate fleet. Everywhere... everyone, you see. If we go home, they'll follow us... if they follow us home, they'll kill us." Razorback snorted pensively, but Vlad merely raised his eyebrows and gestured with his hands continuing, "On the other hand, what if we just disappear, so to speak? What if we hide somewhere... for a while...? 'Hole up' somewhere..." as my American friends used to say."

  Vlad's plan was this: Don't go back to New Australia. Not yet anyway. Nine other ships were going there; and any one of them could be tailed by Star Fleet. This could be far too dangerous for the Warthog. Instead, he suggested... head to Frabrak 3! This was the planet where Naustie pirates had been going on raids repeatedly over the past two years; and it was an entire planet full of islands. Few were even inhabited. Only a portion of the planet had even been explored. If they found a deserted island, far from other colonial settlements; they could drop off the radar for weeks, or even a full month before heading back to New Australia with their prisoners, liquor, and food. "Maybe even get a good tan in the process," the general added with a humorous shrug.

  Razorback grinned and nodded, clarifying the details, "And so you’re saying then… we go home later, after Star Fleet has searched the whole galaxy for us? Once they’ve exhausted their search, you mean?" The pig-like Captain then added with a snarl, "That is… once your men and my crew have drunk up all the liquor and—of course—enjoyed island life to our heart's desire?" The rest of the crew on the bridge snickered and chuckled lustfully. "Precisely, my Captain," said Vlad. "Drop off the grid for a spell. Hide a while. Let the patrol ships search everywhere. Go home to New Australia when the, er… ‘coast is clear’... as they say."

  Razorback thought it over a bit. Yes this was indeed a brilliant idea. In fact he'd ironically thought of something very similar to this only a few days before when he imagined the deadly dangerous race home; perhaps being chased the whole way by unwanted pursuers. And what's more even if they'd eluded Star Fleet patrol ships after the battle at Star Pussy and flown for two weeks through deep space; who was to say that Star Fleet might track another Naustie pirate ship from the fleet back to New Australia? And what then, a pitched battle with Star Fleet while defending their home base? Razorback feared this most of all. He was nothing like Snout that was for sure. Razorback was just a pirate captain, not a hero.

  So, the two commanders agreed: dropping out of sight for a while just made sense... just like bank robbers after pulling off a big heist or bandits after a successful train robbery! And that's precisely what they decided to do with the Warthog. In a few days they could be cruising into orbit around Frabrak 3, avoiding detection by Porkonji surface units. No raid this time. They'd merely find a large island, on the stormy side of the planet (which was lightly or even rarely populated) with a nice valley they could secretly land in. If need be, they'd blast the surface in the very center of the island near the base of a giant dormant volcano and clear off a place to land.

  Almost all islands on the planet Frabrak 3 were created by volcanic activity. All had some volcano or even several volcanoes which had formed the island or chain of islands around it. In fact, the whole planet five million years before, had shifted its planetary core; and engulfed much of its surface in a volcanic holocaust that eradicated most surface life. Not surprisingly, earthquakes and tsunami tidal waves were still quite common; and hurricanes could—and did—wipe out colonial outposts periodically.

  The Warthog was roughly the size of a five story office building laying on one side. So when they finally decided on an island a few days later after orbiting Frabrak 3, Razorback's crew calculated they'd found the perfect location for everyone on board. It had just about everything they were looking for in a “vacation destination” as Captain Razorback snorted humorously to General Vlad.

  Basically the island had a giant mountain in the very center, which towered upward into the clouds above. At the very top of the mountain, which was actually a ten thousand year old dormant volcano, it rained nearly every day; and fresh water ran down the mountain in cascading waterfalls that irrigated a large valley below with ponds, lakes and streams. The Warthog fit nicely in that valley, but no jet-firing ended up being necessary to clear off a site for the landing. Turned out, Porkonji colonists had tried farming the island many years before; and their original farm plantation facilities were still there in ruins. Long abandoned to the jungle, the plantation house was gutted and overgrown with vines and vegetation but the fields which had been cleared were still void of all trees. Thus Warthog was able to plop down on relatively flat terrain and open its massive cargo bay doors with ease.

  As the ramp dramatically descended and eventually settled down on the grassy island surface, over a thousand Nausties and their exhausted prisoners gazed out onto a world like few of them had ever even seen before. It was nearly dusk at the time; and for many, their senses were simply overwhelmed. The smell of the sea air, the odors of the jungle, and the glare of natural sunlight were quite breathtaking for everyone who’d been cooped up on space ships and space stations most all their lives. Many... had literally never even seen a sun setting in many years. Some, who’d grown up on space stations had never seen a real sun at all! A few even wept with joy at the sheer beauty of the scene unfolding before them, as they gazed out into the evening sunlight and the towering mountain above them.

  Porkonji colonists and their field workers were all long gone by now, yes indeed. But in their absence, the plantation seemed to have been taken over by new owners of a very different kind! Actually a breed of giant birds roamed the island now; and when the Warthog landed; it fried to death about 13 of the beasts grazing on the site of the old plantation fields. Roasting carcasses were strewn all around the sixteen support legs and twenty-four propulsion jets of the large spacecraft; and everyone soon took notice of the grizzly sight; as well as the odor of burning flesh and feathers. Captain Razorback looked at the smoldering bodies of these birds and remarked, "Not too bright a
re they?" Many in the crowd chuckled. Apparently the birds—which stood over four and in some cases nearly five feet tall—had just stared at the sky mesmerized until the descending craft's jet engines incinerated them.

  Off in the distance Razorback could hear the rest of the flock gobbling and chortling. A pack of about fifteen of them caught Razorback's eye in a nearby clearing. He threw up his hands to try and scare them off; but they just glared at him. "I don't think our hosts are very pleased with us landing on their feeding grounds...," he snorted. Again everyone around him laughed. At least from far away, the big birds seemed quite harmless….

  Next morning all the female and male prisoners were generously set free; and the troops of Arian Knights Brigade as well as half the crew and all the Pumalar marines were also let out to go enjoy some well-earned “shore leave” on the beaches. The remainder of the crew (mostly Porkos) remained as a small garrison to protect the craft... but even they after a while abandoned their posts on occasion to go out and enjoy island life. Captain Razorback figured he’d keep a small staff in the craft at all times; which functioned as a Commissary basically handing out food and tools. Eventually its task became more of just managing the distribution of liquor.

  True, Vlad had indeed instructed all his troops—and their prisoners—to just go enjoy the island to the fullest until Star fleet had forgotten them (or the liquor ran out). But to the Commissary staff he clarified this order specifically as follows, "One bottle... per person... per week. No more than that. Alcohol you see, takes a long time to kill a man... but it's always much quicker than he thinks it's going to be. Trust me on that... I'm a Russian!" Then he gave that trademark grin that everyone had come to recognize (eyes squinting and face twitched to one side).

  The Arian Knights, Pumalar marines, and all the human prisoners went right out to go enjoy the sandy beaches of their new island refuge. The most hospitable tropical sunny beach was within a mile from the landing site. They grabbed up bottles and cases of booze, some took simple hand tools; and everyone grabbed blankets to roll everything up with and hoist over their shoulders. That's all they took, besides maybe a jug of fresh water for the first day or two. Otherwise, they decided they were going to go out there and "rough it". Fully fifteen hundred made their way toward the beach that first day; and even a hundred or so Pumalars went with them. It was for most all of them the first time they'd ever even been on a real beach, too… the first time many of them had ever dangled their toes in an ocean. It was the first time they'd frolicked in the frothy waves of ocean surf, or actually felt real sunlight on their naked skin. Many got tanned, sunburned, and even very sick after only a single day in the heat; but no one complained. They just passed out in the shade and awakened later to do it all over again.

  In the mornings, it rained for over half an hour, every day, and they could just drink water right off the large tree leaves in the jungle. It was indeed an island paradise. They built huts out of leaves and twigs and bamboo-like beams which they hewed from the forest around them. Earthers made surfboards and canoes out of large trees using hand-axes.

  An island society gradually developed over the weeks, based on nothing more than a live- and let-live philosophy. They formed communities, settled disputes among themselves, formed parties to go hunt or gather food, and shared everything equally in a communal society that valued free speech, free expression and especially free love.

  Oh how they played! The Pumalars too! Beach life became for all of them like a freshman student's first semester away at college... experimenting with the independence and the freedoms—or pitfalls—of living with no real supervision or regimented routine. However, at night it turned into something more like Spring Break for college sophomores! Everyone seemed to want to experience something new; or seemed so much more open to new things. Nothing was too crazy or far-fetched. Everyone just seemed to say, “Sure… why not?” every night.

  The Pumalars became amazingly popular with both the women and even some of the men captured off of Star Pussy. In fact, when the Pumalars set up their own “Lodge” just inside the tree line along the beach... it became quite a popular place to go for partying at night. They worked for days constructing it: basically a giant canopy that kept the morning rain off them; and lava rock barriers stacked up around it connected to the trees to keep out rodents and small lizards at night. Some of the women really enjoyed the company of the Pumalars; while others found them to be far too rough. But they all just had to try a night in the “harem” with the big cats just to see what they’d been missing.

  And as for the gay men from Star Pussy who'd been with Pumalar customers back on the space station? There were quite a few of them who tried working their way into the Pumalar "Harems" each night too. Oddly, the Pumalar warriors didn't mind a bit. They had little if any compunction any more about having relations with a human male... especially the quite clean, clear-skinned, tanned, and muscular bronzed bodies of the former "gladiators" of Star Pussy's Roman Coliseum attraction. To the hardened Pumalar warriors, these were basically no different than women. More fun than some of them. They embraced the males who came to their parties often just as enthusiastically as the females; and everyone had a most splendid time night after night after night as well as on into the early morning dawn some days.

  Vlad built himself a nice hut; and for his own part Vlad spent most of his conscious hours just enjoying his captured slave boy Phillip (along with a case of Vodka of course) and the occasional cameo appearance at local parties. Otherwise, he just slept in his thatched hut… sent Phillip out for breakfast each morning while Vlad slept peacefully in a hammock made from vines and thick jungle leaves. When Vlad would pass out drunk (each night, usually) Phillip just snuck over to the Pumalar lodge. But no one dared tell Vlad. Again… the attitude was always, “live- and let-live.”

  Bitter disputes were rare. Accidental deaths? Well, those happened infrequently of course… and usually due to carelessness or drunken stupidity. Fighting however was quite common! But then again it always was that way back on New Australia. It was just an accepted way to settle minor differences in the culture of the Arian Knights, and it was usually harmless. Vlad set up a mock court for trying individuals and meting out punishment but it wasn't really necessary. More of a joke really… more like a Kangaroo court than a real justice system. Real disputes were settled in the traditional Pumalar way of dueling, whether it was females or males who might be the confronting parties. But no weapons were allowed. The two combatants would just beat each other senseless until one decided to yield; and then everyone would laugh, drink, dance, sing, or go off to make love some more.

  Over half these “duels” were about jealousy over a lover. Otherwise there was nothing really to argue about. Food was plentiful. In the interior were large fishing ponds for the Pumalars to get raw fish to eat. In the ocean it was possible to hook big game fish and harvest crabs or lobster. Pumalars were afraid of the ocean and wouldn't go near it, but humans made canoes and even crafted nets for scooping out schools of exotic fish to eat. Men and women even surfed the waves using carved surf boards. Booze was plentiful too of course; but after a while few really even needed it. Really it was just a peaceful island existence that many found to be both spiritually soothing and stress-relieving.

  Meanwhile, there were those big Cassowary-like birds which roamed the island in large flocks. These were easy to catch and hunt down with spears by squads of humans in the interior valleys of the island. Within a few nights of landing, almost every camp fire was roasting a wild giant Cassowary on a rotating spit, or even serving their eggs for breakfast in the morning with fresh fruit. Essentially the birds had faced no natural predators since the Porkonji colonists had left, so it was easy to kill them at close range with daggers strapped to bamboo-like poles. One roasted giant wild Cassowary could easily feed fifty people in an evening.

  Trees had fruits very much like mangos and avocados. Pineapples, coconuts, even bananas grew there too and tasted
quite delicious (or at least very similar to the Earth versions of them). Berries from trees could be picked right off bushes in the morning to make for a decent little breakfast while searching for Cassowary eggs. All one had to do was find a nest that had been left behind by a hen who had moved off to get water in the morning. Hunters learned to grab two big eggs... then run like hell, because those angry mother hens often gave chase; and their bite could slice through flesh and break human bones quite easily. It actually happened to egg hunters a number of times.

  Rains came right before dawn every morning; replenishing little reservoirs the Nausties created to collect it using large banana tree leaves and some strategically placed empty liquor bottles. No issue with gathering lake or pond water and risking Giardia from bacteria. Bottles would refill every morning with fresh drinking water.

  It was just so nice living there.... Many dreaded ever leaving the place. Some unfortunately never would; and that's tragically what ultimately happened to most of the Zorg crewmen.

  Almost all of them fell quite immediately under the spell of the jungle! In fact they left the ship and TOTALLY went native, though it was—quite sadly—to result in their own gory demise. The Zorgs on board were mostly crewmen who operated minor functions within the ship. Communications officers and technicians most of them were. Technically civilized and intelligent beings at the beginning of the day, they worked and obeyed orders without question on the ship. Totally reliable, loyal and trustworthy; they were brave in battle, cool under pressure, and showed great ingenuity when it came to problem solving.

  But once restored to a natural island jungle environment—with no civilization nearby besides the ship itself—they devolved rather quickly into their most debase, ancient form of natural existence. Captain Razorback didn’t have the heart to hold them back either. He just let them go. He could see them transforming already; once they landed on the island; and soon it was no use trying to keep them at their posts. They needed to be set free and allowed to roam. They didn't want to man their posts... stopped showing up for duty… disappeared from the ship for hours. They just wanted to hunt tiny island rodents like chipmunks, rabbits, and mice. They yearned to go live in the trees, or crawl through the jungle floor on their bellies searching for food, flicking their tongues to sniff the air.