Chapter 06

Chapter 6

            Although he couldn’t see anything, Spot could tell from the instruments that the transport was moving forward.  This despite that he had the engines off.  Even when he put them into full reverse the transport continued to be pulled ahead, deeper into the asteroid.

            “Well, Commander, what do we do now?” Ensign Terrier asked.

            “Can you get a lock on anything with the weapons?”

            “Negative.”

            “Then I guess we wait and see.”

            “Great plan.”

            “Are you questioning me, Ensign?”

            “No, sir.”

            Spot turned off all of the transport’s systems except the life support, seeing no point to it.  They might need as much power as possible to escape—if they could find a way to escape.  If it were the raccoons who had taken them captive then they would probably be held for ransom, the raccoons trying to exchange them for some of their comrades in arms. 

            Without the sensors he didn’t have any idea of where they were going or if they were going anywhere at all.  He glanced over at Ensign Terrier, who had his arms crossed over his chest, looking almost bored.  “Whatever happens, let me do the talking, Ensign.  Is that clear?”

            “Of course, sir.”

            “Good.  We don’t want to make a bad situation worse.  The raccoons don’t execute prisoners, at least not unless they don’t get what they want.”

            “It’s not the raccoons.”

            “How do you know that?”

            “I didn’t want to tell you, but I suppose this qualifies as a need to know basis.  My codename is Dodger.  I work for Fleet Intelligence.  I’m here to gather information on Cats.”

            “Cats?  You mean servants of Cat?”

            “You’re more aware of your mythology than Captain Bulldog.”

            “Buster knows about this?”

            “I told him after I came on board.”  Dodger’s gray muzzle twisted into a smile.  “Don’t worry, Commander, I swore him to secrecy.  Otherwise I’m sure he would have told you.”

            “That’s good—I suppose.”

            “Now, we’re going to have a change of plans.  I’m in charge now.  Got it?”

            “On whose authority?”

            “President Bear’s.  I can show you the order when we get back—if we get back.”

            “What if I don’t believe you?”

            “Then I can break both of your arms.”

            Spot took one look at Dodger and knew he was more than capable of carrying out the threat.  “Fine.  Why don’t you tell me some more about these Cats?”

            “From our information they look like pictures of Cat in our books.:  pointed ears, whiskers, green eyes, and claws.”

            “So you’re saying we’re being captured by demons?”

            “Pretty much.”

            “That’s comforting.”

            “They probably won’t try to kill us—yet.”

            “Yet?”

            “First they’ll want to interrogate us for military secrets.  Then they’ll study us for biological research.”

            “Well, I’ve always wanted to donate my body to science.  I just didn’t think it would be so soon.”

            “You’re taking this better than I thought you would, Commander.”

            “Believe me, I’m shaking on the inside.”  If not for his training he probably would have thrown up all over the console at the thought of aliens carving him up for medical research.  “So what do you suggest we do?”

            “When they try to take us, I’ll look for an opening.”

            “What about me?”

            Dodger shrugged.  “We’ll see.”

            “Thanks.”

            It took only a few more minutes before the darkness around them became brighter than daytime.  Spot put his paws to his eyes, but not before the light blinded him.  When he opened his eyes again, he saw green and purple blobs for a full minute.  As his vision cleared, he saw they were in something like the repair station back in Batpooh State.  Except he didn’t see any ships at the moment, just a lot of machinery of unfamiliar design.  They passed something that looked like a crane, although the brand name was written in a language he didn’t understand.

            “That’s their language,” Dodger said.  “Definitely Cats.”

            “What does it say?”

            “We haven’t decoded it yet.”

            “Great.”

            “Don’t worry, we’ll find a way to get a message back to the Batpooh.”

            “Sure.”  Spot saw their destination in the front screen, a rectangular box with an enormous window of tinted glass.  The tinted glass kept him from seeing any of these Cats Dodger was talking about.  He supposed it was possible for the Cat myth to have been based on something in reality; most myths were based on fact in some small part.

            He took the laser pistol from his hip and then checked the charge in it.  If the Cats could disable the transport, though, they might have some way to disarm he and Dodger before they could do anything.  He hoped not, thinking again of being dissected like a rabbit at the Academy.

            “Don’t worry, Commander.  I’ll take care of everything,” Dodger said.

            “You seem sure of yourself.”

            “Experience.”

            “Right.”  Spot tucked the pistol back into its holster.  He didn’t want to do anything overtly aggressive, at least not until he knew more about what was going on.  This could all be a big mistake, a miscommunication between different species.  It was such miscommunications that had doomed relations between dogs and raccoons decades ago.  Maybe the same fate could be avoided here.

            The shuttle shook violently, a sound like bending metal prompting Spot to grab his armrest.  Were the Cats going to tear the ship open to kill them?  He took a deep breath, wondering if it might be his last.

            The middle hatch burst open like a cork in a wine bottle.  Spot held his breath for a few seconds before realizing he didn’t need to.  No air was rushing out of the transport, at least not yet.  He took his paws off the armrest and then put one to his holster.

            The creatures that came through the hatch were just as Dodger described.  All three had short hair similar to Spot’s fur, except one was darker gray and the other two were yellow, though one more of an orange shade than the other.  They had pointed ears that showed through their silver helmets and green eyes visible through their helmet visors.  Their muzzles were about as short as Buster’s, only without the jowls.  Instead theirs had whiskers extending from each side of a pink nose.  The whiskers of all three creatures twitched as they saw the dogs.  The oblong shapes in their paws could only be weapons of some type.

            “You have violated Imperial Cattatonian territory,” the orange-yellow guard hissed in perfect Bloc Standard.

            “That was not our intention.  We came only on a mission of peace and exploration,” Spot said.  He took his paw away from the holster to lift both paws over his head.  He hoped they understood this gesture.  “I am Commander Spot Mutt II of the Bloc of Planetary States.  We wish to open a dialog with your people.”

            “Take us to your leader,” Dodger said with a snicker.

            The Cats didn’t understand the joke.  They hissed to each other in their native language, their whiskers continuing to twitch.    Finally they broke their conference and the orange-yellow one said, “We will take you to Commander Morgana for judgment.”

            Spot looked over to Dodger, who only shrugged.  The time must not be right for him to try something.  Maybe that time would never come.

#

            The Cats led them through winding corridors of sterile gray metal, to the point where Spot had no idea where they were going anymore.  The Cats had been smart enough to take his laser pistol and Dodger’s as well.  Spot thought the intelligence agent would put up a fight, but he just handed the weapon over without incident. 

            “Where are we going?” Spot asked.  The dark gray Cat tapped him in the ribs with the butt of his rifle in response.  “Sorry.”

            “You will be there soon enough.”

            It seemed to take an hour at least before they finally reached a set of black doors.  The doors parted to allow the guards to shove Spot and Dodger inside.  The room they had wound up in didn’t look like a control room.  It looked more like a throne room, with a single chair on a raised dais.  The chair itself looked similar to Buster’s on the Batpooh’s bridge, with buttons studding the armrests.

            On the chair sat a Cat without any armor, only a plain white robe.  Most of her fur was equally white, expect for patches of brown with black stripes from the top of her head down to her eyes.  Another black stripe adorned her nose, though this was a scar.  A pink tongue darted out of her mouth and her green eyes squinted as Spot and Dodger were shoved forward.

            The Cat fidgeted in the chair, her forepaws twitching as if possessed.  “I am Captain Morgana.  Why have you invaded our space?”

            “We are on a mission of exploration,” Spot said.  “We meant you no harm.”

            “You dare to use your weapons to break into our outpost and then say you mean no harm?”

            “We didn’t know this was your outpost.  There was no response to our attempts at communication.”

            “Because we have no interest in communicating with your kind,” Captain Morgana hissed.  “Your kind are nothing more than brutal savages.”

            “With all due respect—”

            “Silence!”  Captain Morgana scratched at the left side of her face and then began fidgeting in her chair again.

            Dodger stepped forward.  “Captain, we mean no disrespect to you or your people.  I should warn you that killing diplomatic envoys is considered an act of war.”

            The Cat hissed at this.  “You are not diplomatic envoys.  You are invaders!”

            “If you’ll allow me, Captain, I can produce my credentials to prove I am a personal envoy of President Batpooh Bear of the Bloc of Planetary States.”  Dodger started to slip a paw into his jacket until one of the guards hit him in the back with a rifle.

            “Assassin!” Captain Morgana shouted.  “Kill them!”

            Faster than Spot imagined possible, Dodger spun around and hit the dark gray guard in the midsection.  He brought his left leg around to kick the light yellow guard in the face.  The third tried to shoot at him, but Dodger ducked and then swept the orange-yellow guard’s legs from beneath him.  A punch to the head made sure the guard went unconscious.  As all three guards lay sprawled on the floor, Dodger stripped them of their weapons.  He tossed one rifle to Spot while training another on Captain Morgana.

            “Fools!  You will never escape!  Even if you get out of here, we have warships ready to pulverize your vessel.”

            “We have no intention of escaping,” Dodger said.  This time he reached into his jacket and pulled out a sheet of paper.  Spot couldn’t read it, but he recognized the presidential seal.  “As I said, I am a duly appointed diplomatic envoy.  We wish to open relations with your queen.”

            “That is outrageous!  You dare to come in here and—”

            “Open a channel to your queen’s representatives or you can join these three.”

            Captain Morgana stared at Dodger for a moment, continuing to fidget in her chair.  She finally let out another hiss and then said, “Very well.  But I cannot contact her from here.  We must go to the control room.”

            “Lead on.”  Dodger gestured with his rifle.  “Just don’t try anything funny.”

            Captain Morgana stood up, much shorter than Spot or Dodger.  Dodger stayed behind her, the rifle aimed at the center of her back.  Spot followed them, looking over his shoulder at the three disabled guards.  That had been amazing, but Spot knew it would take far more than that to get them out of here alive.

#

            The only ship-to-ship combat Buster had experienced had been war games staged by the fleet using simulated weapons and damage.  The separatist raccoons didn’t have warships and the Bloc didn’t have any other enemies—at least until now.  He steadied himself on the command chair, waiting for the first shot of what could be an interstellar war.

            That shot didn’t come.  “They’re powering down weapons,” Jake said.

            “Are you sure?”

            “Yes, sir.” 

            On the viewscreen, Buster saw the Cat ships backing off.  Had they decided not to attack or was this merely a stay of execution?  “Ensign Mutt, get a channel—”

            “They’re already calling us, sir.”

            “Put it through.”

            The voice that came on wasn’t the same hissing one as before.  Buster recognized it from his quarters as that of Dodger.  “Attention Batpooh this is Ambassador Terrier.  Please lower your shields and power down weapons immediately and prepare to receive a diplomatic envoy.”

            “Excuse me, Ambassador, how can we verify that you aren’t under duress?”

            “It’s true, Captain,” Spot’s voice said.  “We’re fine.  We’ve sent a message to their queen and she’s agreed to meet with us.”

            Buster let out a tiny sigh of relief to hear his best friend’s voice again.  Not only had Spot lived, but he and Dodger had managed to gain an audience with the queen of the Cats!  “Good work, Commander.  We’ll prepare to receive you.”

            Once the communication broke, Buster turned to Jake.  “Power down weapons and shields but keep all hands on alert.”

            “Yes, sir.”

            Buster got to his feet and then started towards the elevator.  “I’m going to the hangar to greet our guests.  Lieutenant Ruff, you have the conn until I return.”

            “Yes, sir.”  Leaving a new officer like Marshy in charge was unusual, but Buster knew Jake didn’t like to be in charge of the ship even for a short time.  He was much better at taking orders than giving them, unless those orders involved security matters.

            Buster figured he had time to go to his quarters and fetch his dress uniform.  It was largely the same, except with gold piping on the red uniform jacket and along the black pants.  He also splashed some water on his face and did what he could to clean his jowls.  He wanted to make as good of an impression as possible on whoever this envoy was that Dodger had mentioned.

            Buster made it to the hangar just as the transport was arriving.  From the look of it, the ship wasn’t any the worse for wear.  Buster hoped the same was true for those inside of it. 

            The Batpooh didn’t have a marching band to play any music as the transport’s ramp was lowered.  Buster could only stand stiffly by the ramp in silence, waiting for the passengers to disembark.  Spot came down first, his jacket looking a little rumpled, but otherwise unharmed.  Spot tossed Buster a salute and then smiled.  “Permission to come aboard?”

            “Granted, Commander.  Now, where are your guests?”

            “Coming, sir.  The one has been a little edgy.”

            “I bet.”

            Buster hadn’t seen a Cat before.  The one that came down the ramp did look about as Dodger had described.  The way this one hissed and fidgeted, Buster could easily imagine her being a servant of an evil goddess.  He forced himself to cast aside these antiquated notions and salute her.  “Greetings, Madame Ambassador.  I am Captain Buster Bulldog of the Bloc of Planetary States starship Batpooh.  Welcome aboard.”

            “You will pay for this,” the Cat hissed.  “The queen will make certain of it.”

            Buster didn’t know what to say to this.  He was spared by Dodger coming down the ramp, an alien rifle in one paw.  So it had not been he or Spot under duress but rather the Cat.  “Greetings, Ambassador Terrier.  I trust your visit went well?”

            “Better than expected,” Dodger said.  “I hope you have quarters to accommodate Captain Morgana.”

            “I’m sure we can find something.”  Buster turned to the Cat.  “Let us know anything you require and we’ll do what we can to provide for you.”

            “You can put me aboard one of our ships or take me back to our outpost.”

            “Now, Captain, that’s not a very diplomatic attitude,” Dodger said.  He turned the Cat rifle over to Buster.  “I’m sure you can take good care of that.”

            “Of course.”

            “Before we do anything else, though, Captain Morgana needs to see a star chart so that she can provide the coordinates for Cattatonia.”

            “We’ll go to the conference room then.” 

            The Cat made a mewling noise in her throat but didn’t say anything.  She followed obediently as Buster led them to the conference room.  On the main computer screen in the room he projected an image of the system based on the Batpooh’s sensor readings.  “This is the best information we have available,” Buster said.

            Captain Morgana studied the screen for a moment.  Her paw tapped part of the screen to zoom in on an area of space about two parsecs away.  “Cattatonia is here.  The fourth planet of the system,” she said.

            “Thank you, Captain,” Dodger said.

            Buster pushed an intercom button to the bridge.  “Lieutenant Ruff, set a new course.”  He gave her the coordinates Captain Morgana had indicated.  “We’ll be heading there at half-maximum speed once I return to the bridge.”

            “Understood, sir.”

            “Now, Captain, I suppose you’ll want to alert your warships of our departure.”

            “They will accompany us,” she said.

            “That’s understandable,” Buster said, though he didn’t like the idea of three warships following him around.  He would have preferred to explore the area unescorted.  “Once we’re underway, Commander Mutt will show you to your quarters.”

            “It will not matter.  You and your ship are doomed.”

            Buster said nothing to this, hoping the Cat was wrong.  Remembering the old stories, though, he wondered if maybe he would help to usher in Doomsday.