“His Gloriousness is indisposed,” said the second.
“What does that mean?” whispered the first.
“It means what you said!”
Amy spread her arms. “How long is he going to be in a state of undisturbment?”
The first guard sighed. “What does THAT mean?”
The second guard cleared his throat. “No schedule has been posted for the end of the Emperor’s state of being indisposed.”
“Are you being sarcastic?”
“No. The point of the thing is, you may not enter.”
“Maybe they can’t, but I can,” squeaked Nick.
The sprite flew up to a tiny slotted window near the roof and squeezed inside.
“She can’t do that!” said the first guard.
“It’s no problem,” said Amy. “I’ll get her.”
The first guard rubbed his furry black chin. “No! Definitely against the rules. Thomson, get inside and grab the sprite.”
The second guard jumped. “Me? But the emperor said nobody’s definitely allowed inside. I’m definitely a somebody, and I’ll definitely get in trouble!”
“I disagree. You’re definitely a nobody. If ‘nobody’ is allowed inside, that means you.”
The second guard shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Really?”
Female screams and a loud crash rattled the windows, causing the guards to grab their rifles. They reached for the door handle just as it slid open.
Sunflower stepped outside, walking on his hind legs and holding Nick in his front paws. His crown and cape were gone and streaks of pink and red covered the orange fur around his face.
“I’m busy, you clowns!” he hissed. “Find something to do in the city. One of those stupid duck boats that drive on land and water, or maybe a museum. How about the Zookiji Fish Market? Largest collection of seafood and motorized forklifts on the entire planet. Zoom, zoom––cats and fish flying everywhere. Never turn your back on a forklift––never.”
He tossed Nick outside and slid the door shut.
“You can’t stay in your room all day!” yelled Amy. “The emperor is supposed to care about his people, Sunflower. This is your chance to lead!”
Sunflower cracked open the door and scowled. “Chance to lead? This is my chance for a vacation! The planet’s not going anywhere, is it? I’ll get to that crap soon. Maybe tomorrow.”
“What’s that pink stuff on your face?” asked Betsy.
“Lipstick,” said Sunflower, and slammed the door.
“Rather,” said Philip. “I suppose that’s put a cork in it.”
“I thought lipstick went on your lips, not all over your face,” said Betsy. “I don’t think Sunnie knows how to use it.”
Amy sighed. “Betsy … you have a lot to learn about life.”
The brown-and-white dog blinked at her. “Huh?”
“That’s right,” said Nick. “Make a list of what Betsy doesn’t know and it would stretch across the galaxy!”
“You said that we were best friends and that you would be nice,” said Betsy.
Nick sniffed and crossed her arms. “Who cares? I’m not your friend anymore.”
“Truce cancelled!”
The terrier jumped and snapped his jaws at the tiny flying woman, who zipped away to Philip’s shoulder.
“I’ll stick a bean in your nose!” she squealed.
Betsy barked and chased Philip and Nick into the small garden. Amy ran after the terrier and held him on the grass with both hands.
“Truce is un-cancelled, by order of your captain. Looks like I’m going to have to separate you two. Who wants to come with us and look for this MacGuffin?”
Betsy and Nick both looked away sullenly.
“Okay. Who wants to stay here and spy on Sunflower?”
Nick windmilled her tiny pale arms. “Me! Me! Me!”
“No marshmallows around here anyway,” growled Betsy.
Amy pointed at the blonde sprite. “Keep an eye on the glorious emperor of the cats, and don’t get caught. Maybe he won’t want to leave when the time comes––”
“Definitely won’t,” said Nick. “You didn’t see what I saw. Just imagine all those wives!”
“He’s still my friend and I’m not leaving without him, emperor of the space cats or not.”
Nick saluted. “Aye aye, captain!”
The sprite buzzed away.
“That sounded very sarcastic,” said Amy.
Philip sighed. “Indeed.”
Chapter Nine
A flash brightened the sky south of the palace, followed by a roll of thunder. Amy stopped in the middle of the path and shaded her eyes from the morning sunshine.
“Another meteor, I suppose,” said Philip. “Nothing to worry about.”
“But it’s the second one I’ve heard!”
The brown-haired boy took her hand. “I don’t see anyone running around like scalded cats. It seems like a normal part of life here.”
“Maybe it was an explosion of chocolate,” said Betsy.
Amy shook her head. “For someone who can’t eat normal food you sure think about it a lot.”
“It’s reverse psychology. I can’t have it, so I want it!”
“That doesn’t sound right. Somebody taught you those words.”
“No, it’s true! Mother got me to eat broccoli that way. She’d tell me and the other puppies how awful broccoli was and how we could never have it, so that’s what we wanted!”
Philip shook his head. “Dogs eating broccoli? I’ve never heard a more peculiar thing.”
“You realize that you’re standing on a planet full of talking space cats,” said Amy.
The teenagers held hands while strolling through the lush gardens in the eastern quarter of the palace. Random patches of purple and white carnations covered the open spaces in the forest. A handful of cats in conical bamboo hats wandered through the flowers, occasionally bending over the large plants with a pair of garden shears sized for their paws. In the next clearing, workers combed through beds of sand with long wooden rakes, as stone lanterns towered over their heads. Fences, bridges, benches, and tool sheds were all constructed of wood, stone, and thick bands of white rope, with no plastics or space-age materials in sight.
Amy and Philip stopped on a narrow bridge that crossed an algae-covered pond. Puffs of cold mist clung to the banks, under the low-hanging branches of evergreen trees. At the far end of the pond, a brown tabby slid silently across the water on a sliver of wood, lifting and pushing a long pole with his front paws.
“I thought cats were afraid of water,” said Amy.
“He’s a fishing cat, I wager.”
“That’s a joke, right? You know there really is a kind of cat called a ‘fishing cat.’”
Philip smiled. “I had no idea, but it’s a great example of the true spirit of the cats in this strange place. The contrast between the natural grounds of the palace and the streets of a very advanced city makes it clear that tradition is very important to them. No matter the changes in future technology, they see the emperor and this palace as part of their collective soul.”
“Holy smoke, Phil––you sound like a college professor.”
Philip shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep very well last night, so I sat up thinking for quite a while. The bed was a bit too small.”
“I didn’t have to sleep!” barked Betsy. “I stayed in Philip’s room and kept guard.”
“Because of the Lady’s modifications to his body and brain––such as it is––Betsy has little need for rest. Another reason the bed was too small.”
A group of cat soldiers in red berets with rifles on their backs marched on all fours to the end of the foot bridge. The cats waited for the humans and dog to pass, and then followed at a respectable distance until they passed through a forest that faced the eastern gate.
A two-story block of mahogany beams and chalky plaster walls, the gate building was turned ninety degrees to the perimeter wal
l, as if to deflect someone or something trying to break inside. The massive, five-meter-high doors were made of the same dark wood as the gate, were covered in hundreds of polished silver bosses, and guarded by a pair of tuxedo cats in black samurai helmets. A white cat with a fluffy tail waited near the guards, licking a front paw. He caught sight of the two humans and the dog, and galloped forward with a spray of gravel.
“Greetings, imperial guests,” he said with a slight stammer. “I am honored that you would choose this simple, worthless servant to guide you through the city. I will do everything I can to make your experience a pleasant one, and if you are not satisfied, I will immediately quit the imperial service and return to my family farm in shame.”
Amy knelt in front of the cat. “This again? I don’t know what you’ve heard, Furball, but I’m very low maintenance.”
“It’s true,” said Philip. “Wait—what does that mean?”
“It means I’m not picky. Don’t worry, Furball. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“Unless we eat some cheese!” said Betsy.
The white cat glanced back at the guards and shielded his mouth with a paw.
“Must you visit the city?” he whispered. “The danger of catnapping is very high, especially for young Centaurans like yourselves. Couldn’t we simply walk along the street that circles the palace and return for lunch?”
Betsy jumped on Amy’s back and rested his front paws on her shoulders. “I’ll protect you!” he barked. “I’m not scared of cats.”
Amy pulled the small terrier off her back and set him on the gravel path.
“No jumping!” She turned to Furball. “Thanks for the warning, but we really have to visit the university and find a cat scientist that works there.”
“It’s the entire reason we came to Tau Ceti,” said Philip.
“Of course,” said Furball. “How could I be so stupid? I have brought shame upon my family and will immediately quit the Imperial service! Farewell and if you never see me again it will be too early.”
Amy held up a hand. “Stop it already; that kind of talk is getting old. I’m never going to ask you to quit, okay?”
“My apologies. Please follow me, honored guests.”
One of the guards pulled a lever and the heavy red doors creaked open. The three friends followed Furball around a sharp corner and passed through another set of massive wooden doors. The sound, smell, and thundering vibration of the city burst over them like a tidal wave as soon as the tall doors began to crack open.
Beyond an arched, wooden bridge that crossed the imperial moat, cats of all shapes and colors trotted along the sidewalk or sat inside clear, bubbled cockpits of spherical cars that zipped through the streets like streams of colored pearls. The different types of hats, necklaces, capes, and backpacks worn by the cats in public was as much if not more than the variety of clothing worn by any crowd of people Amy had seen, and she’d been to San Francisco. The air was full of the heavy fragrances of licorice, rose petals, and raw fish. The bubble cars whooshed as they zoomed along the streets, and a constant, electric hum from the skyscrapers made the tiny hairs on Amy’s arms stand up.
“By Jove, it’s amazing,” said Philip.
On the face of a tall building across the street, a three-story video billboard displayed a giant pixelated kitten. The animal looked up from a bowl, his mouth and whiskers covered in milky green liquid.
“Jurg! It’s not just for breakfast!” squeaked the kitten, loud enough to echo down the busy street.
“Aw,” said Amy. “I don’t know what that is, but I want to drink it.”
“I doubt you would like it, my dear,” said Philip.
He pulled her by the hand over the curved bridge and to the edge of the busy street.
“I’d like to try it, at least,” said Amy.
Philip smiled. “As you wish. I hope you won’t be offended if I watch from a safe distance.”
A streetlight on the corner displayed a white circle instead of a green light. When the circle turned black with a dashed line, the stream of bubble cars slowed to a stop. As she walked with Philip over the yellow stripes on the pedestrian crossing, Amy stared at the cats inside their wheeled vehicles, who for their part, gazed back with equal amazement. Some looked up from books or video displays, some tumbled off their cushions, and others took out small silver cubes and held them up to their eyes like cameras, but most of the “drivers” remained curled up and fast asleep on the flat, cushioned dashboards.
Amy pointed at a cat inside a red bubble car. “That one’s taking a nap, not driving!”
Furball stopped at the curb and looked up at Amy.
“Driving? I don’t understand this word.”
The light changed to a white circle and the stream of bubble cars accelerated with a roar. The cats in their cars pressed paws and noses against clear windows and stared open-mouthed at Amy and Philip, even as their vehicles sped away and shrank into the distance.
Amy grabbed her skirt with both hands and held it down against the whirling breeze from the cars. “How can they stare at us and still drive? I saw one reading a book. There’s another one sleeping!”
A bubble car whipped past. Three cats were curled up on the wide dashboard, each on a separate cushion.
“Ah,” said Furball. “You think the vehicles are in manual mode, as on Alpha Centauri. Here on Tau Ceti we’ve had automatics for decades. It’s as simple as telling the car your destination, then taking a nap or reading a book.”
Philip clapped. “Wizard! Saves on the cost of a driver.”
Amy watched a boxy yellow transport zoom by. On the side was the black-painted symbol of a mother cat carrying a kitten in her mouth.
“Does the system ever break down?”
Furball nodded. “Sometimes, but everyone stays home and watches soap operas on those days. Please, let us continue.”
The white Persian led them along the sidewalk and through the downtown area of Cheezburger. Metal and glass skyscrapers towered overhead, darkening the streets and cooling the morning air with their shadows. From up close, Amy noticed that the sliding doors to the buildings were half the size of human entrances, with sensors that opened automatically.
“You’ll need to watch your head here, Philip,” she said. “Lots of low ceilings and doorways.”
Philip squeezed her hand. “I’m feeling a headache already.”
A stream of cats packed the sidewalk, trotting in both directions. Most simply stared at the two humans and the dog, but a few stopped and bowed low, touching furry chins to their paws.
“Hey, Furball,” said Amy. “Why are they bowing? You said the city was dangerous, but I’m not feeling it.”
“Some cats see my necklace and show respect to the imperial symbol,” said Furball. “Most do not care. I assure you, the danger is still great.”
They walked several long blocks through the financial district, passing banks, investment centers, and the stock exchange. The ground floors of these granite-columned institutions were filled with restaurants and cafes, each churning out fragrant clouds of steam that smelled of raw and cooked seafood, hot tea, garlic, and boiled rice. Some restaurants displayed long aquarium tanks in their windows, and Amy could see the waiters scooping out fish and serving them live to cats seated on cushions around a low table.
“Wow …”
She stopped and tapped on the window of a shop filled with hundreds of food dishes in glass cases, along with the an aquarium packed with neon-colored fish.
“Where are all the tables? I see a bunch of cats wandering inside, but no tables. Do they only sell take-out?”
Furball turned and trotted back to Amy. “This is not a restaurant, but a business which sells plastic food to restaurants.”
“Why on Earth would you need plastic food?” asked Philip.
Betsy wagged his tail. “It lasts longer!”
“The plastic food is used for display,” said Furball. “It is also considered an art form
by sad, lonely cats who collect the items as a hobby.”
“Even the fish are plastic?”
“Indeed,” said Furball. “Smaller restaurants use plastic fish in their front windows and keep the real fish in back to trick the customer. That is not a place you should eat.”
The white cat turned up his nose and continued down the sidewalk.
“I want a plastic fish,” said Betsy. “He can be my best friend!”
“Alas,” said Philip. “I’m afraid we don’t have any cat money.”
Amy knelt down and rubbed the dog’s furry neck. “Betsy, you can’t be friends with a plastic fish. Did the Lady actually put a knowledge implant inside your head?”
“Sure!” said the brown and white terrier. “It falls out of my brain socket every few months. If I shake my head really fast you can hear it banging around.”
The terrier whipped his head back and forth.
“Funny,” he said. “Now I can’t hear a thing. Ooo, dizzy!”
Amy grabbed the dog’s head. “Stop that! How do we fix the implant?”
“Surgery. Or grab a piece of wood and biff me in the head. Sunflower came up with that one. Actually, Sunflower was the one who told me about the chip coming loose in the first place. He’s really smart like that. None of the other dogs that worked for the Lady had problems like that.”
Amy sighed and stood up. “Right.”
“Back to the real world, eh?” said Philip.
Amy laughed and waved at the cats staring from passing vehicles. “The real world? I’m a cat celebrity in Catville.”
Furball blinked at her. “Catville is on the other side of town, honored guest. This is the financial district.”
“Sorry. It was just a joke.”
As they continued to walk east, banks and high-level businesses were gradually replaced by neon-illuminated shops selling electronics and toys. Huge video billboards covered the upper floors of the buildings and showed fast-paced, animated cartoons of cats fighting dogs and sauros. Boxes of plastic action figures were stacked high in the shop windows. Most were of cats and dogs, others were models of fighter jets and spaceships. Several figurines of humans were among the mix of plastic toys, all depicted as blank-faced dullards in animal skins. The long-bearded men gripped spears with their bulging arms and the toys of human women were big-breasted tarts in leopard-print miniskirts and too much makeup. Through the window, Amy could see the shop was packed with cats browsing the action figures, chatting to each other, and carrying the small boxes to the cash register.
Empire of the Space Cats (Amy Armstrong Book 2) Page 14
