“She has a point,” said Philip. “I don’t think any of us would want that.”
Amy spread her arms. “Landing gear is pretty important––it’s in the name, you know? I’m not getting out and holding up the nose of the ship every time we have to stop for a Slurpee. These arms are strong with girl power, but that’s asking a lot.”
“If the spaceport can provide certain pure elements, my nanites can repair the damage in a few hours,” said the ship. “Without the necessary materials, construction time will be extended significantly.”
“Smashing,” said Philip. “Sunflower can shuffle some papers, sign an imperial degree, and you’ll be as right as rain.”
Amy glanced left and right through the forest. “Speaking of rain, excuse me while I powder my nose and, um … stuff. Hey––it’s the room Nistra talked about. The one we should never go inside.”
A round hatch marked “Prive” stood among the redwood trees. Someone had scribbled a symbol on the metal with black marker––long squiggly lines radiating from a triangle.
“It’s definitely not a washroom,” said Philip. “It looks dangerous.”
Amy rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t ‘privy’ mean bathroom? I read that somewhere.”
“Perhaps, but––”
Amy pushed on the center of the hatch. “Listen, don’t ever stand between a girl and the bathroom. You will die. I’m not saying that to be mean, Phil––I just don’t want you to be trampled to death. That would be bad for our relationship.”
The hatch spiraled away. Amy stepped inside and the floor turned white, filling the room with a pale glow.
She coughed and waved a hand in front of her face. “Good gravy, this place hasn’t been cleaned in forever …”
Her voice trailed off as she stared at shelves packed with objects and a far wall covered in photos.
Philip stepped through the hatch. “Wizard! A museum.” The dark-haired teenager walked to a shelf where a heart pendant and other items were shielded from touch by thick, vertical glass. “But why the security measures for something so common––a necklace? Strange bottles? And this is apparently some sort of confectionary wrapper.”
Amy peered inside. “Confecsha-what? It’s just bubble gum. Why would anyone save Hubba-Bubba wrappers?”
“This ship belonged to the Lady. Perhaps these objects held sentimental value.”
Amy smirked. “The classic story about the half-human mechanical spider creature with a heart of gold? Hubba-Bubba is my favorite gum, but even I wouldn’t keep it under glass.”
“I say it’s a museum of some sort. If the items were special to the Lady, I wager she would have taken them before giving us the ship.”
“She’s got taste, I give her that. An empty bottle of Diet Coke, a roast beef wrapper from Arby’s, a box from a Hostess apple pie––that one better not be empty. Some of the favorite things I’ve swiped from grocery stores. I mean, ‘purchased’ from grocery stores. Let’s be honest, though––this place is more like a garbage dump than a museum.”
“Several tatty old books,” said Philip. “Tom Sawyer, Treasure Island, and assorted pamphlets.”
Amy clapped. “Those aren’t pamphlets, those are comic books! It’s Namor the Submariner!”
Philip shook his head. “Dear Amy, I don’t understand half of what you just said.”
Amy touched the vertical glass protecting the shelf. A pin-point light flashed staccato green and the glass whisked up.
“Whoa! How did I do that?”
“I doubt we’ll ever know. What I would like to know about is this ‘Namor’ individual.”
Amy pulled a comic book from the top of the stack. “He’s like Aquaman, but in the Marvel Universe. No? I keep forgetting you’re from jolly old England. Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.”
“Excuse me?”
“Sorry, bad joke. Anyway, Namor is king of the oceans and can swim and fly and talk to fish and crap.”
Philip pointed at the cover in Amy’s hands. “But that’s a young woman.”
“It’s Namorita, the daughter of Namor. She has all the powers of Namor, can breathe underwater and fly. Namorita is my favorite, and this is one of her best issues!”
“Apparently she’s in danger of drowning,” said Philip, frowning. “And about to catch her death of cold. Someone has forced her to wear an extremely revealing bathing costume.”
The slim blonde on the cover wore an emerald green one-piece swimsuit. Her arms and legs were trapped inside an amorphous black substance, and bubbles streamed from her mouth.
“She can breathe underwater,” said Amy. “And you think she’s showing too much skin? In California, girls wear less than that at the beach––bikinis and thongs and everything. It’s a disgusting meat show.”
Philip cleared his throat. “I quite enjoy a sampling of fine, um, meat products. I’d like to visit the seaside in your time.”
“I’m sure you would, Casanova. Only for scientific purposes, right? I’ve got my eye on you.”
Amy kissed him on the lips, but a gleam from a lower shelf pulled her away. She bent down, opened the glass in front of the shelf, and picked up a necklace. Tarnish had dulled the silver heart pendant to a smoky white and blackened the metal chain.
“This is exactly like the one I’ve got back home,” she whispered. “My foster mom called it my baby necklace. It was wrapped up in the blanket when they found me.” She turned the silver heart in her fingers to look at the back and suddenly dropped it. “No way!”
“What’s wrong?”
Philip scooped the tarnished chain from the floor and examined the back of the pendant.
“‘To Amy,’” he murmured, reading the inscription. “A common enough name. Not that your name is common, dear heart, it’s that the Lady simply found one with your name on it. I daresay if I were strolling through Hyde Park and some tout were selling a hairbrush with ‘Philip’ carved in the handle, I wouldn’t bat an eye.”
“Phil,” Amy murmured from across the room.
“Yes, love?”
Amy stood frozen, staring at the wall of photos. Some were old, brown, and as curled and dry as dead leaves. Others were made of square plastic, and still others were thin digital displays that showed the subject of the photo in great detail. This subject happened to be Amy Armstrong, in hundreds of stages of life and with dozens of different companions.
“Great Scott,” whispered Philip. “Is that you?”
“I could ask you the same thing. Have you been to any of these places? Here’s a photo of someone in a spacesuit. Looks like the Moon. Here’s one of a woman who looks like an older version of me, sitting on a throne. In this one, I’m wearing a nightgown and holding a baby with blonde hair. I’ve never met these people or done any of these things!”
Philip pointed at a faded picture. “This one is missing a hand. In another one, she has a hand, but also a scar across her face.”
“The Lady said she had been looking for me for a long time,” said Amy. “Do you think this is some kind of sick project? Was she some kind of creepy stalker?”
“Perhaps you should ask the ship.”
“Fine. Blanche, what’s the deal with all these photos?”
“It is a collection of images,” said the warm voice of the ship. “A memorial created by the Lady to remember her past.”
Amy sighed. “Blanche, I don’t think you get it. Why would I be in all the photos if it was about the Lady?”
“Because you are the Lady, my Lady.”
“What? I’m Amy Armstrong, not some ancient half-machine spider thing!”
“A journey does not begin at the same place it ends. Amy Armstrong is always the Lady, and the Lady is always Amy Armstrong. It has been this way since the moment I found you.”
“Impossible. These aren’t me!”
“That is correct. You have your own story to follow, just as the Amy Armstrong in each of these images had her story.”
“Multiple dimensions
,” said Philip, holding out the silver pendant to Amy. “Endless Amy Armstrongs across endless dimensions. The ship seeks out another when the previous passes away.”
Amy hugged Philip tight and pressed her face into his chest.
“The Lady kept saying I was special,” she said, her voice muffled by the spandex material. “I thought it was because I was smart, or cute, or good at stuff. Not something creepy like this. I’m just her clone!”
Philip stroked her blonde hair. “It may have spent the last two years living on an asteroid with talking cats and dogs, but I think none of this dimensional nonsense matters. Out of an endless number of Amy Armstrongs, you’re the smartest, prettiest, and my favorite. I wouldn’t switch places with anyone right now.”
Amy looked up at Philip with red eyes, and kissed him on the mouth. At last they separated.
“I don’t feel any radiation, if radiation even has a feel,” said Amy. “Why would Nistra lie about this room?”
Philip took her hand and led Amy out of the room. “I’m not certain, but I think we should keep a close eye on him. He seems like a devilish character and certain to cause trouble for us.”
“Good idea.”
AMY LAY on the bed in her room, shoes off and hands behind her head, eyes blinking in half-sleep.
“You said I don’t have to wash these clothes, Blanche? How does that even work?”
“The nanites that inhabit the fibers clean the garments, my Lady. Nitrates and other waste products of your skin are consumed by the nanites for energy.”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”
She closed her eyes and said nothing for a long time.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Blanche?” she murmured. “About my past? About anything?”
“I would have been happy to answer your queries, my Lady, but you didn’t ask.”
“How could I ask a question about something I don’t know anything about in the first place!”
Betsy’s furry brown-and-white face appeared on a holoscreen above the headboard.
“Nick’s being mean to me,” said the terrier. “She hit me with a pillow and said I should go play in outer space.”
Amy thumped the headboard with her fist. “I’m sleeping! Don’t bother the captain and don’t make me tell you again!”
The screen went dark, and she settled back on the bed. “How long until we land?”
“Two hours and twenty minutes, my Lady.”
“How’s MacGuffin and his purple ship? Still following us?”
“The Cleopatra is operating at nominal efficiency. I am confident that it will safely reach the intended destination.”
“Thank you, Blanche. Please don’t let anyone bother me for a couple of hours.”
THE PAIR OF SHIPS crossed the vast suburbs that surrounded Cheezburger and were cleared for landing at the busy central spaceport, their final destination a distant spot of concrete covered with the flashing lights of emergency vehicles.
Brick supports topped by industrial-strength foam cushions had already been prepared for the White Star and her damaged landing strut, and the ship touched down at the emergency landing area without a problem.
Amy, Philip, and the rest of the group climbed down from the airlock and walked toward the battered Cleopatra. Up close, the ripped purple hull and deep scars from the tentacles of the inspectors were easy to spot. Amy was shocked that the purple craft had flown halfway around the planet.
MacGuffin ran up to her and bowed on the tarmac. “Thank you again for saving my life,” said the Siamese cat.
“Don’t thank me. Nistra and Blanche did all the work.”
“Blanche?”
“Amy’s name for our ship,” said Philip.
“I see,” said the cat. “As soon as I can unload the Cleopatra, I will begin analyzing the recombinator matrix inside ‘Blanche,’ as you call it. As far as my craft goes, I’m afraid it will have to be junked. Far too many holes in the fuselage.”
Sunflower’s father perked up his orange ears. “Doc, you can’t do that! Maybe she’s not space-worthy, but tape some garbage bags over those holes and she’ll be perfect for cruising around Tau Ceti.”
MacGuffin bowed. “So be it. As a token of our friendship, I give you my ship Cleopatra.”
“Awesome!”
“Rad!”
Sunflower’s father and mother jumped at MacGuffin and hugged the Siamese cat around his furry neck.
“We’re totally out of here,” said Sunflower’s father.
“Yeah,” said Bocephus. “Take it easy, human dude and dudette.”
Amy raised a hand. “Hello? Don’t you want to see His Imperial Highness Sunflower? He’s your son, after all.”
Bocephus shook her calico head. “Totally correct, but he’s also the one who abandoned us in the middle of nowhere. We’re his parents! That was some totally bad juju.”
“He’s changed. He’s literally not even the same cat.”
Sunflower’s father blinked. “That’s cool and everything, but palace life isn’t our scene. It never was.”
“It might be the last time you’ll see him,” said Philip.
Nistra shuffled up to the group. “What nonsense,” said the lizard. “Every time might be the last time for anything.”
Amy patted the sauro on the arm. “Glad to see you’re better. We thought you had a stroke or something.”
Nistra shivered and pulled away. “Please don’t touch me.” He blinked and suddenly straightened. “Captain, may I have your approval to load the sauro food I purchased? It is waiting in a shipping container at this spaceport.”
“What food?”
Nistra bowed. “Many pardons. My diet is very delicate, and I purchased the food without consulting you. It would be a simple matter of only a few seconds to lift it into the cargo hold.”
“Sounds fine to me, as long as it doesn’t smell.”
“Perhaps a bit. If you are offended by the food, I will eject it into space.”
“Sure. Whatever.”
Bocephus bowed in front of Amy.
“Thank you for trying to get the family back together, but Sunflower made his choice a long time ago. Our son never wanted a family and never wanted us around. We’re not going to fight that.”
Amy knelt down to the pair of cats. “Let me call him. I won’t tell him you’re here, but I can probably get him to pay for the repairs to the Cleopatra. He won’t have any idea that you’re the new owners.”
An open holoscreen line was connected to the palace, and Amy convinced Sunflower to approve the significant sums needed for the purple ship.
She waited for Philip to change into his street clothes––an English suit of gray wool––and the pair took an automated bubble taxi to the palace. As they drove away, Nistra supervised the loading of a large shipping container into the cargo hold of the ship, tall and wide enough to theoretically hold a dozen sauropods standing at full height. MacGuffin was hard at work on the transmat drive replacing the recombinator and Betsy and Nick played a cat version of hackysack with Sunflower’s parents using a stuffed poona skin.
Amy and Philip returned to the imperial palace and walked through the lush, flowering gardens, their footsteps crunching on the tiny white stones of the path.
“How are you going to convince Sunflower to leave?” asked Philip.
Amy shrugged. “Appeal to his better nature?”
“Does he have one? If I found myself in a dimension where I was king of England, I doubt I would have the courage to leave, even if I knew I didn’t belong there. Would you?”
“I’m Amy Armstrong. I don’t belong anywhere.”
Philip put an arm around her waist. “Poppycock! Everyone has a home. Once the ship is repaired, we’ll take you back.”
“But … what are you going to do in 1995?”
“Work in a shop, I suppose, or repair automobiles. I’m fascinated by your stories of amazing machines and everything you tell me about the future.�
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“That’s great and everything, Phil, but you don’t have to come with me. Cut your losses and find a nice English girl. One that’s not going to turn into a gray-haired robot.”
Philip stopped and held both of Amy’s hands. “That’s quite enough whining! Your future isn’t set in stone, dear.”
“How do you know?”
“It’s what the Lady was trying to tell you. Change the path of your life or end up like her. Nothing is pre-ordained, and a life in California free of flying robots and talking cats and dogs must have a happy ending. At the very least, the knowledge that a wrong choice exists will keep you from following it.”
Amy pulled Philip down the path. “But what if SHE knew, and still couldn’t avoid it?”
“A pity we can’t ask her.”
“But we can! The inspectors!”
Philip sighed. “We don’t know the origin of those beastly machines. Perhaps they came from the Lady and she has a legitimate complaint against this cat MacGuffin. Even if you could learn something, I recommend against any contact with the Lady or her agents. Don’t you recall what happened in London?”
“That was Betsy’s fault. He was supposed to scare us into returning, but couldn’t control the inspector. The Lady meant well.”
Philip smiled. “The road to Hell is paved with the best intentions, as they say.”
Amy pulled the tarnished heart pendant from a vest pocket and stared at it.
“I guess you’re right,” she murmured.
The guards in front of the imperial residence bowed deeply and opened the doors. Amy and Philip entered a large foyer and waited on cushions for several minutes before a patterned interior door slid open. Sunflower emerged with a yellow cape tied around his neck.
“I was eating breakfast when you called,” he said in a bored tone. “Did you really have to bother me about some stupid repair bills?”
Amy shook her head. “Stupid repair bills? Did you see the damage to that ship?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, don’t. I’m sure you’re too busy to care about the battle your friends suffered through. Wouldn’t want to upset your breakfast.”
Empire of the Space Cats (Amy Armstrong Book 2) Page 22
