Empire of the Space Cats (Amy Armstrong Book 2)

by Stephen Colegrove

  Sunflower sighed. “Lots of golf courses on Earth in 1995. Now … not so much.”

  A burst of static sounded behind Amy’s eyes, as if the voice had inhaled sharply.

  Amelia Earhart Armstrong? How did you find me?

  “I didn’t find anything. The Lady gave this ship to me––gave you, I guess––after we came back from London. The Lady broke me out of prison for stealing the Sauro home planet––which I didn’t do, actually––but before the Sauro fleet attacked her asteroid.”

  I see. The future has created the past; the young has found the old. It is the way of things.

  Amy glanced at Philip and Sunflower’s confused faces. “Excuse me, um .. Miss computer voice in my head? Please speak aloud so that my friends can hear you, and I don’t have this weird headache.”

  “Of course.”

  The entire room vibrated with the deep bass of the ship’s voice, forcing the teenagers and Sunflower to cover their ears.

  “Too loud!”

  “Sorry,” whispered the ship. “I haven’t spoken to anyone since the last one took my heart away. I took a nap for a few days.”

  “A few days?” said Sunflower. “It’s been decades since the Lady docked the White Star and built her asteroid base!”

  “Day, years,” murmured the ship. “When the galactic wind has warmed your skin for a thousand years, every photon is the same as another.”

  “I should write that down,” said Sunflower. “Too bad I don’t have pockets. Or a notebook. Or a pen. Now I don’t even remember what you said.”

  “Forget the galactic life lessons and sarcastic cats,” said Amy, floating above the control panel. “We have to find a way back to Earth.”

  The ship yawned. “Can’t I take another nap? The one you let me have was so nice.”

  Amy’s illusion of pink cotton candy darkened, and she found herself floating above the same black dome as Sunflower and Philip.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “If there’s even a tiny chance of getting back to Earth, I have to try. My family … my foster mother was really sick. After that, you can take all the naps you want.”

  “As you wish, my Lady,” said the ship. “Your word is my command.”

  Amy stared at Sunflower. “What did she call me?”

  “A lady, I think,” said the cat, gliding by with his paws outstretched. “But you’re more of an undeveloped girl. Or a boy. Are you a larva? I don’t know the words for human things.”

  “You’ll know them when I beat them into your skull!”

  “Always trying to solve problems with violence. No wonder you monkeys destroyed Earth.”

  “Amy is a lady and there’s no question about that,” said Philip. “That ugly space uniform does her no credit, and I hope we can soon find proper clothing.”

  Amy pulled at her stretchy red outfit. “Thank you, Philip. Always a gentleman.”

  A quiet snoring vibrated the walls.

  “Here we go again,” said Sunflower. “Sleeping like a fish.”

  Amy snapped her fingers. “Hey! Miss … spaceship or whatever. Wake up!”

  “Sorry,” said the matronly voice, and yawned. “I thought I could have a tiny cat nap.”

  “Is that a joke?” asked Sunflower. “Am I being made fun of by a spaceship?”

  “I think we should ask the ship to turn on the gravity,” said Philip. “Floating around like a guppy in a fishbowl was fun for a little while, but by Jove I think it’s turning my stomach.”

  “Great idea,” said Amy. “Gravity please, Miss ship!”

  “Request received,” said the warm voice. “Power matrix on-line. Activating main engines; increasing thrust to one-quarter. Rotational impellers engaged.”

  Sunflower’s eyes widened. “No, wait––”

  The cat fell through the air and bounced off the black control dome, while Amy and Philip smacked onto the glossy floor beside him.

  “––a minute,” groaned Sunflower.

  Amy sat up, rubbing her elbows and knees. “Ouch and double ouch.”

  “Sorry,” whispered the ship. “It has been a few days since I had a crew.”

  Amy helped Philip to his feet. “No problem. What should we call you, anyway? ‘Ship’ just seems weird.”

  “I will respond to any name you choose, my Lady.”

  “Please stop calling me that.”

  “What honorific would you prefer?”

  “Amy. Just call me Amy.”

  Philip spread his hands. “The question is, what should we call you?”

  “I have no opinion in this matter. In the thousand years of my life I have been called Ship, White Star, Lionheart, Indomitable, The Beast, Bright Arrow, Avenger, El Diablo, Momma Boom Boom, Enterprise II, Chick Magnet, Etwal Blan––”

  Sunflower groaned. “This could take a while.”

  “To recite the entire list would require twenty-three minutes and twelve seconds,” said the ship.

  Philip held up a finger. “What was the last one––Etwal Blan? That means ‘White Star’ in Cat French.”

  “What you call ‘Cat French’ is the original language of my home, Katmando,” said the ship quietly. “‘Etwal Blan’ is the name given to me by my parents.”

  “It sounds like ‘Blanche,’” said Amy. “Let’s call her Blanche!”

  “Or … you could just not call me anything,” said the ship.

  Amy pumped the air with her fist. “Blanche––take us to Earth!”

  Chapter Two

  Amy, Philip and Sunflower retraced their steps through the corridors of the ship, this time with gravity working and their feet firmly on the rubber walkway.

  “I hope Betsy and Nick are doing okay,” said Amy.

  Philip nodded. “I know what you’re thinking. Why don’t we ask the ship?”

  “Blanche, we have some friends wandering around inside you. Have they murdered each other yet?”

  “Negative,” said the ship calmly. “Is the elimination of their life signs your intention?”

  “No! I mean … no. What’s their status?”

  “Two organisms in the cafeteria are communicating at a high level of volume, apparently over the ownership of a marshmallow. One is a canine with bioengineered implants, the other is an artificial, feline-created organism which according to my database is called a sprite. There is a ninety percent chance these are biological pests and not the friends you mentioned. Would you like me to vent the biological pests into space?”

  “No!”

  “It’s quite easy, the venting. Cleanup is not an issue.”

  “Please. Don’t. Kill them.”

  “Very well. Should I add these organisms to the official crew roster?”

  “Yes! That one. Do that.”

  “A third bipedal is wandering through Corridor Five-B. This organism is also not in my database, but the outward appearance is a mutated humanoid variation of Varanus komodoensis. I suspect it may have been created as a horrifying circus attraction to sell tickets. Would you like me to vent this bipedal into space?”

  “Tempting, but no. Add him to the crew roster.”

  “Are you certain? It looks quite nasty. I can smell something foul in the ventilation, even though it wears a prophylactic uniform.”

  “I’m sure. His name is Nistra and he’s part of the group.”

  “As you wish.”

  Sunflower shook his head as he trotted beside Amy. “You’re going to regret not venting him into space. That was your chance!”

  Amy shrugged. “No matter how violent or disgusting and no matter how many problems they cause, everyone has a place in the universe.”

  “I was talking about Betsy!”

  Amy grinned. “So was I.” She froze in the middle of the corridor.

  Philip walked a few paces and stopped. “What’s wrong?”

  Amy pointed at the walls. “We’re in a redwood forest! I can smell the trees and hear birds. Don’t you see the mountain jay? It’s just flew down the corri
dor!”

  “Of course it did,” said Sunflower. “T.H.E. is back online. Right now, I’m walking along the Gold Coast. For you monkeys, that’s the greatest beach on Tau Ceti and the most beautiful spot in the galaxy.”

  “Everything’s changed to the green Yorkshire countryside for me,” said Philip. “Apart from the metal deck below our feet, of course.”

  “Hatches and doorways always show up in T.H.E.,” said Sunflower. “You can see corridor walls and the hand-scribbled directions if you stare long enough. Take my advice––don’t stare.”

  Amy squinted at the clear blue sky between a pair of giant redwoods. The faint smear of a large arrow and the black scribble of “Navigasyon” floated in mid-air.

  She shook her head. “This is freaking me out.”

  “No wonder,” said Sunflower. “T.H.E. pulls from your own mind to create sights and sounds. Mittens knows what horrors are inside a monkey brain. A floor covered with mashed peaches or something equally awful.”

  “Can’t we give it a new name? T.H.E. is too confusing.”

  “That is the new name,” said the ship’s voice. “The previous nomenclature was also deemed unsatisfactory.”

  “What was the old name?”

  “Memory Environment.”

  “Ah. Yeah, I get it.”

  Amy and her two companions followed the path of rubbery black material through the forest. After several turns they stopped at a wide silver disc floating on-edge, quite a contrast among the trees and the rust-colored needles. Sunflower touched the metal disc with his paw, below the handwritten phrase “Chanm Navigasyon,” and it whisked away to reveal a dark, circular doorway.

  Amy followed the cat to the edge and froze, her hands gripping the sides of the opening with the white knuckled-fear of a perfectly normal person who doesn’t want to jump out of a perfectly normal spaceship.

  Below her feet, above her head, and everywhere around her spread the infinite emptiness of deep space, as if she stood in the open hatch of an airlock. Tiny stars glistened against the vacuum, like a sneeze of powdered sugar in a universe of black anthracite. In the center of everything floated a circular whirl of stars––a three-dimensional map of the Milky Way galaxy––and a low metal cylinder. A handful of cushioned seats floated in mid-air around the axis of the cylinder. Sunflower sat in one of the seats, tapping his paws on top of the cylinder and staring at a square holographic display that flickered above the surface.

  “Give me an hour or so and I’ll calculate our position,” he said.

  Philip stood beside Amy, staring at the scene with the same wide-eyed shock as her.

  “My word,” he whispered.

  Sunflower glanced at the bewildered teens. “What’s wrong? You’re looking at the outside of the ship projected onto the surfaces of the room. It’s a holoscreen system like in the corridors, just not as complicated. I’m beginning to think you crazy monkeys haven’t even been to the movies. Stop staring and get over here.”

  Philip offered his arm, but Amy shook her head. She took a tentative step into empty space and her bare foot touched an cold, smooth, and invisible surface. She walked carefully over to Sunflower and the galactic map.

  “One foot after another,” murmured Sunflower as he stared at the holographic display. “Just like falling out of a tree, right?”

  Amy crossed her arms. “One more monkey joke and I’m dumping a litter box over your head.”

  “Okay, okay! Don’t get nasty.”

  Philip joined them at the table. “I suppose this is why the ship doesn’t have windows. Absolutely no need, with projection machinery such as this.”

  Sunflower nodded slowly. “Mmm hmm. Like I said, I’m busy figuring out where we are in the galaxy.”

  “Why not ask the ship?”

  The cat stared at Amy. “Seriously? Who asks for directions these days?”

  “I guess male stubbornness happens in all species,” said Amy. “Blanche, where are we?”

  “Inside the navigation room, my lady,” the ship said smoothly. “Twelve meters along the x axis from centerpoint, two meters along the y axis from––”

  “I mean, in the galaxy.”

  “Which galaxy, my Lady?”

  Sunflower snorted and tapped his paws on the flat top of the cylinder, causing a hurricane of white numbers to spiral out.

  “You don’t even know what questions to ask,” he said. “How many galaxies do you think there are?”

  Amy spread her hands and looked at Philip. “One?”

  The teen shrugged. “Two or three?”

  Sunflower pealed with laughter and fell backwards out of his chair. The cat held his ribs and rocked back and forth on the invisible floor, laughing uncontrollably.

  “Two … or … three,” he gasped.

  Amy sighed. “Blanche––how many galaxies in the universe?”

  “The current number of observable galaxies is two-hundred billion,” said the ship. “Give or take two or three.”

  “Hilarious.”

  “Thank you, my lady.”

  Sunflower wiped tears from his eyes and climbed back into his chair. “This little discussion has been pointless, anyway. No cat or dog has ever left the Milky Way even with a ship from Katmando, so we might as well say there’s only one galaxy. Ship, what is your maximum speed?”

  “Three point five parsecs per hour,” murmured the female voice. “This velocity is not recommended for more than one ESD, or Earth Standard Day, and may cause damage to systems. Normal cruising speed is two point one parsecs per hour.”

  “Holy Saint Mittens,” whispered Sunflower. “No wonder the sauros could never catch the Lady! Do you know how fast that is?”

  “I have a feeling you’re going to tell me,” said Amy.

  “One parsec is thirty-one trillion kilometers. This ship can cruise at sixty-three trillion per hour! She can travel from Kepler to Tau Ceti in four days, a trip that takes a normal passenger liner an entire month!”

  “If there’s no traffic,” said the ship. “And assuming we don’t hit anything on the way.”

  “We’re a thousand parsecs from Kepler 22 now,” said Sunflower, tapping on his console. “From the readings, the Lady actually did what she said––we’re in another dimension.”

  Amy hopped a little and clapped. “Great! Is it mine? Can we fly back to Earth?”

  “That would be pointless. The SBD signal is weak, and the distance from the galactic center too far, meaning the year is around 1139.”

  “The medieval ages?” asked Philip. “Swords and castles and princesses?”

  “More like the swords and plague and toothless crones,” said Amy.

  “1139 in standard galactic time,” said the cat. “Only a few years after we left the Lady. What’s that in Old Earth years? I don’t remember the calculation. Ship, what’s 1139 in Old Earth?”

  “3322 Common Era,” said the ship.

  Amy sighed. “Okay, but what’s SBD?”

  “SpaceBook Decay.”

  “Sorry?”

  “I thought I explained that already,” said the cat. “I hate repeating myself even more than I hate explaining things. Haven’t you heard about SpaceBook already?”

  Philip glanced at Amy. “I don’t recall anything specific in my readings. Is it a book about space? An encyclopedia?”

  “Absolutely not. It couldn’t be less like those two things if it tried.”

  “Please try to explain it,” said Amy. “How does it decay?”

  Sunflower sighed and turned to face the teenagers. “SpaceBook is a series of one million communication satellites spread throughout the arm of the Milky Way galaxy where Tau Ceti and Earth are located. We can use the date code from the repeated signals to determine the age of the galaxy. That’s how I know this is not your dimension––the stations are farther apart and the galaxy slightly older.”

  “What if we travel to a dimension without SpaceBook?”

  Sunflower shook his head and turned back
to the display. “There is never, ever a dimension without SpaceBook. Ask me about it again sometime. It’s only the greatest crime ever committed against the universe.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic! In the entire universe? You said there were 170 gajillion or whatever galaxies.”

  “It’s a long story and I’m not sure you monkeys would understand.”

  Philip walked around the floating map of the galaxy, his arms crossed.

  “Speaking as one of those ‘monkeys,’ now that our vessel has become operational––so to speak––perhaps we should look into finding Amy’s version of Earth.”

  “That’s exactly what the Lady tried to explain before we left,” hissed Sunflower. “Returning to the same dimension is like searching for a single strand of hair at a wig convention.”

  “Do cats wear wigs?” asked Amy. “How do you even know what that is?”

  Philip leaned on the console. “However remote the chance, that strand of hair still exists.”

  Sunflower slammed a paw on the console and shrieked in anger. Silver, mechanical fingers sprouted from the “manos” bracelets around his wrists and the orange tabby furiously began typing on a glowing keyboard that appeared.

  “I see,” murmured Philip. “Perhaps we’ll save that discussion for later.”

  Amy wagged a finger. “Sunflower! That’s a bit rude even for you.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s just that you were asking about a transmat to another dimension, and I pulled up the drive statistics. It’s completely burned out––that’s why I lost my temper.”

  “Maybe it’s offline because the ship was asleep. Blanche, is anything wrong with your dimensional travel … stuff?”

  “Transmat,” hissed Sunflower.

  “Chamber integrity nominal,” said the warm voice of the ship. “Drive links nominal. Demat and remat signal location fields nominal.”

  Amy whispered to Philip. “Is ‘nominal’ good or bad?”

  The teenager shrugged. “Good, I think.”

  “Main drive offline,” said the ship. “Recombinator offline.”

  “Ooo, that’s bad,” said Sunflower. “Bad, bad, bad. Ship––what’s the physical status of the recombinator?”

  “Recombinator is currently an irregular mass of carbon, plutonium, lithium––”