Empire of the Space Cats (Amy Armstrong Book 2)

by Stephen Colegrove

  “Also goo.”

  “Thanks for that comforting thought.” Amy hugged Philip around the waist and stared up at his face. “Any last words?”

  Philip took a bite of the sandwich in his hand. “Dear, I want you to know––”

  “Yes?”

  “I absolutely love––”

  “Yes?”

  “––sausages. This one is perfectly wizard!”

  Amy sighed. “Nice.”

  The rocky, gray and brown landscape below their feet grew larger as the ship descended, revealing numerous craters from meteor impacts on the desert surface. Ahead of the ship, the dull, broken peak of a mountain loomed tall in the night sky.

  Amy and Philip held each other tight and Nistra grabbed the edge of the central console as the ship approached a square of four flashing lights at the base of the mountain. A horizontal smear of red appeared between the bottom pair of lights and grew into the rectangular, red-lit opening of a hangar. Two lines of blinking lights framed a runway that stretched deep into the mountain.

  “The door’s open, so that’s sixteen percent at least,” said Amy. “Right, Blanche?”

  “No questions, please,” said the ship. “I’m concentrating.”

  The opening of the hangar flashed by, and the ship quickly slowed to the pace of a sprinting human. She followed a series of green lights to a wide, open area cut from the rock and rotated a complete circle, pointing her silver nose back at the hangar entrance.

  “Good show!” said Philip. “We’ve arrived.”

  “I’m just happy to not be a puddle of goo,” said Amy. “It’s like Christmas!”

  Large blocks of machinery surrounded the sides of the turn-around area, some with black hoses that looked like they could be for refueling and others with claw-tipped arms retracted into sleeves.

  “Nothing moves here,” whispered Nistra. “Living or dead.”

  “Hard for dead things to move,” said Amy.

  The reptile shrugged. “Sauro children play a game with a dead poona. It is more fun with dead cats, but such are the times. Two teams fight for the corpse. If the dead cat bounces across a line, that team gets a point.”

  Philip rubbed his face and sighed. “How quaint.”

  A large purple craft stood at the other side of the rock-walled cavern. Twenty meters long and shaped like a hunched-over cockroach complete with articulated metal legs sprouting from the sides, the ship was connected to the machinery by a dozen large cables and corrugated hoses.

  Amy pointed at the ship. “Tell me that’s full of giant cockroach people and I’m not stepping one foot outside.”

  “It’s a cat cruiser,” said Nistra. “I do not see any weapon pods, so the owner is probably civilian.”

  Philip nodded. “Perhaps it belongs to Cynthia MacGuffin.”

  “No response from the craft,” said the ship. “She’s either unregistered or doesn’t want to talk to me. Cat vessels are like that.”

  “Someone has to be here,” said Amy. “Scan for life forms, Blanche.”

  “I detect no mobile heat signatures in this area or on the Cetean craft, my Lady. Analysis of biological material in the atmosphere and environment indicate that at least one, if not more, biological entities have been in this immediate area in the past ninety-six hours.”

  “What kind of biological material?” asked Philip.

  “Cat hair,” said the ship dryly. “Lots and lots of cat hair.”

  Amy pumped an arm. “Super! Let’s go.”

  “Cat hair,” said Nistra, and shivered. “If the captain pleases, I will stay with the ship.”

  Amy crossed her arms. “I do NOT please, you big baby. What if there’s a fight and nobody’s around to protect me and Philip?”

  “Hey!” said Philip. “I can protect me and Philip. I mean, you and me.”

  Amy pushed a finger into Philip’s chest. “If you’re protecting me, who’s protecting you?”

  “Sorry? Oh, I get it. Yes, we definitely need him.”

  “But I want to stay by myself,” said Nistra. “Being alone is the only hobby I have left!”

  Amy pushed the sauro toward the door. “Nope, coming with us. Forward march!”

  “What about Betsy and Nick?” asked Philip.

  “The specified crew members are still sleeping in their quarters,” said the ship. “Would you like me to wake them, captain, thereby adding their expertise on food, fashion, and repurposed garbage to the group?”

  “Not when you put it that way. Let ‘em sleep.”

  “Additionally, a scan of the weather patterns indicate that a major hurricane will strike the present locality in twenty-six minutes.”

  “Are we safe?”

  “Inside this facility, that is a correct statement. The blast door was designed for these frequent storms. As long as it remains in place and we are not forced to leave, the captain and crew members will be safe.”

  “Got it.”

  BOTH PHILIP and Nistra grumbled mightily about wearing their stretchy red uniforms outside the ship.

  “It’s for safety,” said Amy, as she climbed down the ladder from the airlock. “You heard what Blanche said about this place.”

  Philip followed Amy down the ladder and joined her on the deck of the hangar. “Do you have any extra clothes lying around? I wonder if some of those could be tailored to fit me. It shouldn’t be that difficult to make a pair of trousers.”

  Amy fanned her skirt and grinned. “You don’t need trousers, Phil––I’ll make you into a little princess. I bet your closet back home is full of ribbons and bows and pretty lace dresses.”

  “I don’t have a home anymore. The Lady saw to that, didn’t she?”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it up.”

  Philip shook his head. “Forget it. Apology accepted.”

  Nothing moved in the hangar or made a sound apart from the footsteps of the two humans and the sauropod as they walked over the polished rock floor. Even the machinery was deathly silent, and nothing chirped, hummed, rattled, or buzzed. The three intrepid explorers wandered around the side of the purple cockroach spaceship to an automatic sliding door. This led to a corridor illuminated with red lamps in the ceiling and lined with horizontal rubber pipes. Below the pipes stood a long line of numbered yellow barrels, some of them leaking an oily black liquid.

  “Honey, I’m home!” yelled Amy, and listened for the echo. “Nothing. This is the welcome I get.” She glanced at Philip and Nistra. “What? It’s a joke.”

  Philip shook his head. “It’s a bit of an odd thing to say.”

  “Yes,” said Nistra. “On Kepler Prime we call this a ‘crime of attempting cave ownership.’ The victim is taken out and beaten, then strangled, then beaten, then burned alive, then strangled, then thrown off a cliff.”

  “Victim?” asked Amy. “Don’t you mean ‘criminal?’”

  Nistra held up a fist. “On Kepler Prime, we punish the victim. Praise the Leader!”

  “Great. Nobody strangle me for taking the lead and trying to find this cat, okay?” Amy strode down the red-lit hallway, her arms swinging wide. “There’s always a map somewhere. Here’s one! Nah, just cobwebs.” She froze. “Wait––are there spiders in space?”

  Philip put an arm over Amy’s shoulder. “We’re not in space, dear, but I’m sure whatever made that cobweb is massive and has fangs the size of houses.”

  The floor of the corridor vibrated from a distant thud.

  Amy stared at Philip. “Was that a meteor?” she whispered.

  The corridor shook twice more.

  Philip shrugged. “Perhaps the storm?”

  “Too soon for that,” said Nistra.

  The lights in the ceiling clacked off in sequence starting with the furthest down the corridor and covered the two humans and sauropod in complete darkness. The shivering impacts came again with a regular, steady beat. A sinister voice breathed through the air––cold, distant, and absolutely alien.

  “Smelllss
s,” hissed the deep and sibilant voice. “We hopesss it tastesss good, yesss, doesssn’t we?”

  Amy grabbed for Philip in the darkness and hugged him tight.

  “Spiders don’t eat people, do they?” she whispered.

  “I don’t think it’s part of their diet.”

  “Good.”

  “I also don’t want to find out.”

  “Is that why you’re pushing Nistra in front of us?” whispered Amy.

  “You’re as perceptive as you are beautiful.”

  The roar of a lion blasted their eardrums, and all three turned and fled. In the darkness, however, it was difficult to remember which way was which.

  “This is a wall!” yelled Amy. “Where am I?”

  Philip reached through the darkness and grabbed something. “I’ve got your hand, Amy. So dry and scaly. Also, dear, you need to cut your nails. Very sharp.”

  “What?”

  Amy’s fingers brushed across a wall and touched a flat button. She covered her eyes as the glaring lights in the ceiling snapped back to life. Between her fingers, she saw Philip and Nistra holding hands with their eyes squeezed shut.

  She giggled. “What a cute couple!”

  Philip and Nistra opened their eyes and sprang away from each other.

  “Amy, I thought it was you!”

  “Number one: don’t ever tell a girl she has skin like a lizard. Number two: I should probably buy some hand lotion. Is there a Walgreens in space?”

  Another thud vibrated the floor behind them.

  “No, no, no!” roared the deep voice. “Lights off, you morons. Lights off!”

  A Siamese cat stood erect in the middle of the hallway wearing a pair of gigantic metal boots. His fur was mostly tan––apart from his dark brown ears, face, and paws––and the cat held a white megaphone in front of his mouth.

  The cat lowered the megaphone and shrugged.

  “Boo?”

  Nistra screamed and took a few steps back, until he noticed that he was the only one frightened.

  “Sorry. Reflex.”

  Amy brushed a strand of blonde hair over her ear. “Let me guess––you’re the galaxy’s worst shoemaker?”

  The cat shook his head.

  “A nasty cat-robot experiment? Victim of a horrible boating accident? A cat stranded on this station for so long that he’s forgotten how to love?”

  Philip sighed. “What about the obvious, dear?”

  Amy raised her index finger. “I know! This place is full of weird space gas which causes us to imagine a half-cat, half-robot monstrosity, who will trick us into either fighting to the death or kissing each other in front of a pack of space Romans wearing togas.”

  “Dear heart, you do have an imagination,” said Philip. “This is Doctor Cynthia MacGuffin.”

  The Siamese cat jumped in surprise, causing the metal boots to thump the floor. He gripped the megaphone with both paws and held it out in front of himself like a pistol.

  “Where did you hear that name?” he asked. “There’s nothing on this station of value, so turn around and head back to Amber or whatever space dump you came from.”

  “Your boots might fetch a pretty penny,” said Amy. “But strange as it sounds coming from me, we’re not here to steal anything. We need to speak to Doctor MacGuffin.”

  The cat lowered the megaphone.

  “You’re not pirates? Bounty hunters?”

  “As cool as it sounds to be a space pirate, no, we are not.”

  “Imperial Revenue Service, that’s who you are. I knew it was a bad idea to toss that shoebox full of receipts into the river. I swear that bathrobe was a legitimate business expense!”

  “We’re not from any government organization,” said Philip. “We met with your friend Doctor Jackson, and he gave us your location. We want to ask you a few questions and then we’ll be going.”

  The cat sighed. “That’s what they all say. Just a few questions, buddy, just a few. Just a few years of post-graduate work where some other cat takes the credit. Just a few years of teaching bonehead science to freshmen cats. Just a few mortgage payments, few loans from the bank, few back-stabbing research assistants. I’ve had it up to my whiskers with just a few!”

  Amy held up her hands. “Whoa, now. We didn’t come here to upset you. Sorry if that’s happening.”

  The cat shook his head. He dropped the megaphone and pulled his feet out of the giant metal boots.

  “I should be the sorry one,” he said quietly. “I don’t get many visitors. For obvious reasons, the strangers that do show up at this remote station are not very nice.”

  “So you ARE Doctor MacGuffin!”

  The cat bowed. “The one and only.”

  A loud clatter came from the far end of the corridor. A pair of cats slid around a corner and scrambled up to the group on all fours. One was an orange tabby and the other was a white shorthair with calico patches. Both had black, cat-sized rifles strapped to their backs, ready to fire over their shoulders.

  “Stop!” yelled the orange tabby, the muzzle of his rifle wavering between Philip and Amy. “It would be majorly uncool to hurt Doctor Cynthia. Like, WAY uncool.”

  “He’s totally the smartest cat ever,” said the patched calico, speaking with an older female voice. “The Doc wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  Amy held up her hands. “We’re not doing anything. We just want to talk.”

  The tabby pointed his rifle at Nistra. “Well, man … why’d you bring one of those things? All they like to do is kill, man.”

  Philip shrugged. “In case we met other things that like to kill?”

  “Amy and Bocephus, put down your weapons,” said Doctor MacGuffin. “It’s fine. These humans and their sauro slave are not here to harm anyone.”

  Amy pointed at her chest. “Amy? That’s my name.”

  The three cats burst into peals of laughter.

  “Whoa, hang on a second,” said the orange tabby, wiping away tears with a paw. “These humans think they can write anything on a birth certificate. How can you call a girl Amy?”

  The calico female nudged the cat. “Don’t make fun. Words can hurt, especially when it comes to names.”

  “Sorry.” The tabby bowed. “I’m Amy, and this is Bocephus––my partner on the beautiful journey of life we call … uh, life, man.”

  “Wow, way cool,” said Bocephus, and kissed him on his furry orange cheek.

  “Charmed, I’m sure,” said Amy.

  Philip bowed. “Philip of Marlborough. The sauro beside me is Officer Nistra.”

  Amy the cat nodded. “Totally awesome. Don’t go aggro and kill us all or anything, okay?”

  Nistra blinked slowly. “I will do my best to restrain myself.”

  Doctor MacGuffin waved a paw down the corridor. “Enough formalities. I suggest we escape to the upper floors. These lower levels are dank and smelly, and only useful for scaring the nine lives out of pirates.”

  MACGUFFIN STASHED the megaphone and boots in a closet and led the group to an elevator. Dark and empty floors flashed by the elevator’s window as they rose through the mountain. The only signs that anyone lived here at all were one floor of machinery and a bright level packed with rows and rows of green plants.

  “Ask me your questions,” said Doctor MacGuffin. “Or should we stare at our paws like a bunch of half-wits?”

  “We’re here for your recombinator matrix,” said Philip. “Or the plans.”

  MacGuffin slapped a red button and the elevator jerked to a halt, throwing everyone off-balance.

  “You scoundrels! Apprehend them!”

  Amy the orange tabby shrugged. “I don’t know what that word means, dude. We can do some fascist gun-pointing stuff, though.”

  Bocephus nodded. “Heavy.”

  “They’re from the Lady, you morons! I stole the recombinator from her.”

  “The what?”

  “The shiny blinky thing!”

  “Right, right,” said Amy the cat, and pointed the
muzzle of his rifle at the two humans. “Hands up, human dude and dudette and slimy space pig!”

  Bocephus aimed her rifle at Nistra. “Space fascist!”

  The lizard shook his head. “I am certainly a fascist, but to call me a pig is very confusing. I am nothing like a pig. It is the one species of mammal that I am absolutely not similar to. We are cloned in vats, while the pig gives birth to live young.”

  “Shut up, space pig!”

  Amy held up her hands. “We’re not from the Lady.”

  MacGuffin shook his furry head. “Why did your boyfriend say he wants the recombinator matrix? I should have shut the blast doors and let your ship explode on the surface!”

  “No way you could have done that, Doc,” said Bocephus. “You were taking a nap.”

  Amy the cat nodded. “Snoring like a space pig. I could hear it from my room.”

  “Quiet,” said MacGuffin. “I suppose we’ll send them outside to die like the others.”

  “Cool deal,” said Amy the cat. “Violence is against my religion.”

  “I know, right?” said Bocephus. “Bad karma.”

  Amy and Philip glanced at each other. The pair leaned down and jerked the rifles from the harnesses of both cats.

  “Whoa!”

  “Stop it, human dude!”

  Doctor MacGuffin groaned and fell to the floor in a furry pile. “You idiots! Now we’re the ones going for a morning stroll of death. My research is ruined!”

  Amy set the rifle on the floor of the elevator. “We’re not working for the Lady. See? We’re not here to hurt anyone. The recombinator on our ship is damaged, and we thought you could help us repair it. Otherwise, we’re stuck here.”

  The Siamese cat nodded. He pressed a button and the elevator jerked upward.

  “Why don’t you ask the Lady? She knows more than I when it comes to transmat technology.”

  “It’s complicated,” said Philip. “At first we thought she was trying to kill us, and then she sent Amy to prison.”

  “We don’t even know if she exists in this dimension,” said Amy. “The recombinator burnt to a crisp during our transmat.”

  Doctor MacGuffin’s eyes widened into huge yellow globes in the center of his furry brown face. “You’re from another dimension? Blessed Saint Mittens and his three legs! Come to the laboratory. Come! I have to take samples!”