Life with your loved ones on a starship, with adventure and all that emergency situations entail. You do your job, and then get back home. Here’s some proof that more than just humans can have that exciting life…
The blue stone collar setting I just proposed to Clover with is twinkling, nested in her thick fur like it had always been there. I know that isn’t true, she had just accepted the token mere moments ago, accepting my marriage proposal along with it. From her pleased expression, she had been waiting for this moment. My heart is still racing from the experience. I was certain she was going to say no.
We’re at the Captain’s Diner, one of the few restaurants on the Flagship Pathfinder Damien. Normally, Clover and I just eat in our rooms. The replicators work well, although there is something to be said about someone else actually cooking for us. The dinner was perfect for the importance of tonight’s question.
“Moggie, why do you look shell-shocked? Your eyes are dilated and your ears are back,” Clover asks as she selects the next piece of tuna to eat. Fish on a spaceship sounds impossible, but there really is a giant fish tank with various kinds of fish in it. It is a necessity with Asskins as allies. They love their fish, and every ship that they supplied us with the plans for included the same tank.
“I didn’t think you’d say yes,” I answer. “Not that I didn’t want you to say yes, I just…I don’t know, thought you might not be interested.” It is weird, I am the most confident cat in the universe when it comes to saving lives and helping people piece their minds back together. I am secure in my degree and feel comfortable leading people. Around Clover, and I’m not sure I can even walk a straight line.
“Moggie, there isn’t a cat alive that I would rather spend my time with. Getting to experience all the pop-cultural things with you for the first time is amazing. I’ll never forget when you learned about Gundam and Earth-based catnip. Who wouldn’t want to explore all of that with you?”
“I did expect to be at least allowed to ask the question…” I pick at my salmon filet. The thing is huge. I guess they forgot I was a cat. I’m not complaining though. I’ve not eaten all day, stressed out about the proposal as I was.
“Sorry, I guess I did get a little overexcited for a second.”
Clover is not sorry. She is quite pleased with herself. I had watched a series of videos showing how to propose, and all of them showed men presenting a box, open with the ring displayed, while they asked, “Would you marry me?” There was very little variation in the process. Even the most elaborate of the events boiled down to that formula.
I tried to emulate that. I had just pulled the box out of my carry satchel, didn’t even get it open, and Clover pounced. She cleared the table, practically screaming “YES!” I don’t think I saw anyone who was being proposed to be quite as enthusiastic at accepting the token. I’m not even sure she looked at it before she put it on her collar and began posing so she could display it to the world.
“I’d much rather you be excited to be my bride than be hesitant and shy about it.” I think about it for a second, “I can’t picture you being shy about anything, at least nothing that I’ve seen yet.”
“Meh, confidence is really just a show of acting. If you behave like you expect success, you generally get it.”
Ah, my Clover, she is truly wise beyond her years.
Just as we are getting into the meal, there is a thunderous boom and the ship shakes, as though it had struck something. The silence that follows it is almost deafening. I’ve spent my life in space and we’ve never come near to hitting anything. There is surprisingly little debris in space, and what is there is generally easy to avoid.
The silence lasts for a heartbeat. It feels longer. Suddenly, the alarms are blaring. The serene golden lights of the diner are replaced with red. I look up at Clover to find her eyes dilated in the harsh light. Her breathing is fast. She knows what she is going to hear next, just as I do.
“ALL HANDS TO BATTLESTATIONS! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!”
Clover and I dive off our seats and move in time with each other out of the restaurant. I’d settle the bill later. This is an emergency. With a swipe of a cheek, we both take off going in opposite directions down the hall. She is going to the machining room for orders on what would need to be fixed. I am going to the triage center to help with patients. I might be a psychiatrist, but that just means I focused on the mind and brain. I also have my medical degree and can be of help.
I don’t beat the first patients through the door, but I do beat the rush. We have triage nurses who know what they’re doing, so I stay out of their way and instead report to Doctor Skaggs. He assigns me a workstation next to Doctor Arches. It works out that the doctors are divided by species. It sounds bad, but it makes it easier to assign people to the appropriate doctor. While a cat can perform surgery on a human using robotic arms, they can’t restrain an individual as well as one of their own kind can.
It doesn’t take long for more casualties to come in. Most of them have minor bumps or bruises from being struck by fallen debris or from losing their footing when the ship shook. Others are far worse off. Several individuals were in the engine compartment when it was hit by what sounds like a torpedo. Most of my patients describe it as such, but I, and the rest of the staff, are not sharing that information. It could just be gossip, although I’m doubting it.
In no time flat, we were inundated with people who had anything happen to them in the triage center, all of them waiting to be seen. I’ve never been this busy in my life, and the tide does not seem to be slowing down.
***
“Of course, the ship would be attacked. Moggie had just proposed to me and we were having a wonderful dinner. I knew it was going too well.” I run for all that I am worth down to maintenance. Being a cat, even as big of one as I am, gives me an advantage over humans. I can fit where they can’t, and with the robotic arms that attach to my suit, I don’t have to worry about being too weak or not having opposable thumbs.
I’m not the first one through the door. I’d have been shocked if I was. We have a constant rotation of maintenance teams working on the ship. Most of the time, it is all just small stuff, but when something big happens, we have to be able to respond within moments.
This is big, I’m certain of it.
I’ve been in space for a few years now, and I know the likelihood of us hitting something. Especially something at the back end of the ship, rather than the front. No, something hit us, and the chances are high that it was deliberate.
“Okay, team, listen up. We were struck by some type of incendiary device. We do not have specifics at this time. We do not know that we are under attack at this moment, but we cannot rule it out,” Maintenance Supervisor Dave Freer explains. He might look like he’s ready to retire and live in the backwoods of some island, but the man is quick-witted and better than most with a wrench. It is even said that the 10mm tools find him, not the other way around. With quick precision, he starts dividing out teams.
Each team has a cat and two humans. My team consists of Chris Rushing, a quiet man who likes to just get the job done, and Ryan Reed. Ryan is a studious man, quick at problem-solving and defusing tensions. I have the perfect team. Just as well, since we’re being deployed to the blast site to make sure there are no micro-breaches and to strengthen the paneling. We bring some of the repair sheets with us, just in case.
I ride on Ryan’s shoulder to Engine Room #4. That’s where the impact was most direct. The shields protected the ship from most of the damage, but a kinetic weapon like what this sounds to be can still cause stress and problems for the ship’s hull. Before going in, we engage the atmospheric-loss protocols on our suits. This causes a small bubble to go around all exposed skin and protects us if we lose life-support or pressure in the room.
As soon as we enter, we clip onto the railings. None of us actually expect that the panel will blast out, taking everything with it, but the military is nothing if not overly cautious and redundant with its procedures. It isn’t worth the paperwork to ignore the safety precautions.
At first inspection, the panel is safe. Electroluminescence shows some micro-fissures though, so a patch will need to be welded over it to prevent those cracks from expanding and opening a hole in the ship.
“Clover, you’re the better welder. You wanna take this and we’ll hold the patch still for you?” Ryan asks as we map where the breaches are and how big of a section we’re going to need to repair.
“Sure. We should patch this whole section, anchoring the patch to the support struts. The fissures don’t seem excessive, but I’m not sure what they might do if we’re hit again. I’d rather go too big, than too small.” I am glad that I’m doing the welding. With my robotic arms, I could hold up a panel, but it would be difficult.
I am just finishing the final section of the repair when the ship is hit again.
***
The emergency room doors slide wide open when the Med-Tecs come in with three stretchers. They had been out checking for any additional casualties since the second blast. “Two humans and one cat, maintenance crew, found in an engine compartment.” I can’t see who is talking since I’m with a patient, but I can hear the report well enough. My heart is ready to stop. Is it Clover?
“Both humans are male, thirty-five and forty-three years of age, suffering from concussions and contusions from hitting the engine shields during the last explosion. Cat is male, fifteen years old, possible severe internal bleeding.” I don’t hear who is taking the humans, but I can hear them bringing the cat into Doctor Arches’ station.
“You looked like you were ready to bolt out there when you heard that there was an injured cat,” my patient says. She’s a young human woman. She sprained her wrist when she caught herself during the first explosion. I am wrapping her wrist to prevent mobility after applying a salve to help the injury heal faster. Her prognosis is very good.
“I would not have abandoned you. I just have someone very dear to me in maintenance, and I was worried it might have been her who had gotten hurt.” I don’t look up from watching the robotic arms work. It is very easy to wrap the injury too tightly, and that would do more harm than good.
“Yeah, I have a friend on the maintenance crew, too. I hope he’ll be okay.” Her voice got a lot softer as she finished her sentence.
I stop the robotic arms so I can pay attention to the woman in front of me. “I am certain that they are doing everything they can to be safe. They want to come back to us. They also want to make sure the ship is safe for us.” I place a paw on her knee as I talk, drawing her attention to me. She gives me a shaky smile that I can empathize with just a little too well.
***
The explosion rocked the engine compartment. I was leaning against the new panel, on a ladder, making sure my weld was as close to perfect as possible when the impact occurred. Chris and Ryan were pushed slightly away from the wall, but with my much smaller mass, I flew. Luckily for me, Ryan was quick to move, catching me against his stomach.
“Can’t go having you getting hurt. You’re the best welder we have,” he says with a smile as he sets me down on my four paws again.
“Thanks for the save.” I jump back up on the ladder to continue my work. One near miss is not enough to make me stop working and I want to make sure this panel stays on, protecting the engine, and most importantly the people, on this ship.
As soon as I am done welding, we start checking for flaws and damage. Just because it looks good, doesn’t mean that there isn’t some type of an internal flaw. Using eddy currents, we make sure that everything is as close to perfect as can be, which is good because I’d hate to have to cut the welded sections out and redo it all.
“Alright, time for us to head back to maintenance headquarters and pick…” Chris never gets to finish his sentence because our radios are going off with the emergency signal.
“Ship Maintenance, Clover Silentstep, go.” I am the first one to answer the transponder and stop its infernal buzzing. Even the dead would wake to answer the call just to stop the thing from blaring.
“We have a problem and you guys are standing right on top of it,” Freer says over the comms.
***
I am helping Doctor Arches work on saving the cat who came in after the second explosion. We are almost done closing him up. His prognosis is tentative. He lost a lot of blood, and there was significant damage to his organs. Luckily for him and his crew, they were found quickly and we were able to stop the bleeding, replace his fluids with a hemoglobin-based oxygen carrier, and encourage his body to heal. It has been a long time since I actually performed surgery and not just watched one for my continuing education credits, but it came back to me pretty quickly.
“Two explosions. That means there has to be someone else out there, taking shots at us.” Doctor Arches doesn’t look up from where he is tying the stitches off.
“You don’t know that. Although I have to admit, that sounds likely. I can’t think of any other reason that we’d have had two hits in less than an hour. Although the delay in attacks might be an indication of an attempt to pacify the aggression by either them or us. Whoever attempted it though, failed.” I take the equipment as Arches finishes, placing them in the kidney bowl to be cleaned and sanitized for later.
“What I do know is that they have mobilized the marines for a hostile ship take-over.”
I almost drop the tools that I’m holding. “How do you know that?”
“It is part of the procedure to inform the heads in medical of the potential for casualties, as if we didn’t have enough of those already. They are mobilizing assault teams Charlie and Foxtrot. If things go as planned, they should be deployed to the attacking ship just as soon as it is disabled and unable to fire on the carriers, which means we’re returning fire.” Arches has finished casting his last stitch and is cleaning the incision area one last time. Sepsis is still a major risk, hundreds of years after the discovery of the germ.
“Are they thinking raiders, or something more serious?” I don’t stop cleaning while we talk. We don’t have time to stop.
“I’m thinking it must be something more serious than just raiders if they’re mobilizing two teams. Besides, if it were raiders, we’d have seen the ship before it attacked us. To have bypassed our scanners, they would have to have some very sophisticated cloaking. It is either an organized race using current Asskin technology, which is military only, or it is an outside species.” Arches stops and looks at me, giving me time to process what he has just said without actually saying it.
“You think we’re about to enter a…war.”
“It would be the first war Earthlings have experienced in nearly a century, ever since the Asskins appeared. It would be the first war waged in space. There is no telling how bad this could be.”
***
“What do you mean we’re on top of the problem?” I look down at my paws. The only thing under them is the floor, and that is solid. There was no damage done to it when the ship was hit.
“We’re sending people to subdue the ship that fired at us. BUT, one of the latches is failing to disengage and release the pod. I need you guys to get down there and manually release it.” Freer is trying to sound like this is no big deal, an easy task. I’m a cat, I can hear the stress in his voice and I don’t think it is from handling all of the teams at once.
“On it,” I answer, nodding while I do so. “Ryan, Chris, let’s get these floor panels up. If I remember the schematics of the ship right, Freer is correct, the locking mechanisms should be directly below us, under this floor, and just behind a couple of support struts.”
We don’t actually need the entire floor up, just one panel. It is the access panel to the area between levels. I slip in first since I am the smallest and can see the best in the dark. There are motion-sensitive lights down there, but they’re not bright. I turn on my suit light so that the men with me can see.
The crawl space between the floors is narrow, forcing the men to their hands and knees in their attempt to go through the corridor. It takes longer than I’d like, but we finally make it to the manual releases, and there is an immediate problem. The area hardly has any room for anyone larger than an Asskin, the beings the ship was originally designed for. That means I can fit, but Chris and Ryan don’t stand a chance of squeezing down there and helping me lever the manual release.
I immediately tie off on the nearest attachment and with a deep breath, I start to work. I have two robotic arms. One of them I use to brace myself and provide leverage for the other, which I will be using to operate the lever. It is tight, but I manage it.
Time is short, I can hear the carrier bang on the underside of the ship. Three out of four of the latches were released. They’re already overdue for their rendezvous with the other teams. They can’t just break the last latch because it could cause a hole in the ship. They can’t reattach and go to a different carrier because the first latch is stuck. Using my back legs and my robotic arm, I begin to push.
It is only a second, but it feels like a year before the latch begins to move. Suddenly, it disengages, releasing the latching mechanism, the carrier…and me. What I thought was a solid floor is in fact a hinged opening, exposing me to space, in all of her glory.
I immediately twist in my harness, desperate to cling to something, anything. I still have one robotic arm anchored against a wall and I have my tether. What I don’t have is the physical strength to pull myself against the suction and to safety. My suit with all of its safety elements is keeping me from suffocating, but it is also distracting me with the myriad of alarms that are going off inside of it.
Just as I begin to fear never making it back onto the ship and to safety, I feel a strong hand on the back of my neck, just above my harness. I am unceremoniously jerked from the hinged opening and pressed against the same hull that my robotic arm, now broken under the strains, was against. With his other arm, Ryan yanks on the lever to close the trap. I can see him scream as he pulls, but I can’t hear him. Sound doesn’t travel in a vacuum.
With one last yank, he manages to slam the lever down, ending the threat. That’s when I notice Chris’ hand on Ryan’s belt, holding on for all that he was worth. Chris had saved Ryan and me from falling into space by keeping Ryan on the ship. The tethers would have ensured we didn’t leave the ship’s vicinity, but it was Chris who kept us on board completely.
“You guys saved my life. Thank you,” I say, once I catch my breath. I begin to shake as I start to come down from the adrenaline rush.
“Can’t let our best welder go out the hatch now, can we? Let’s get you to the infirmary, make sure you’re okay. I’m pretty sure I strained something trying to pull that lever and Chris had to deal with my fat butt.” Ryan tries to act like his save was nothing, but we all know the truth. While the tether would have held me, and the suit would have protected me, I could have still been in serious trouble if they had not caught me, twice in one day.
***
The whole triage center is in an uproar. We’ve got the previous patients out the door or assigned to a bed, and now we’re preparing for the casualties from the boarding. While it is likely that the ship we’re attacking has medical supplies, no one is going to risk tainted, expired, or incorrect medicines from an unknown ship. All casualties, from both ships, will be descending onto our infirmary. We have to be ready for them.
Just as nurses are beginning to line the halls with beds, a trio comes through the sliding doors. They’re maintenance and one of them has Clover clutched to his chest. She appears to be shaking. “A little help here?” the one holding Clover calls out.
I race over to him, as does Doctor Arches. Two human doctors run over to the men as well. One look at them and we can all tell that they need help. They look like they’ve been through hell, burn marks on their suits, dirt and dust ground into the fabrics, and the pale expressions of people who have had too much adrenaline and not enough time to process it.
“I’m okay, just shaken,” Clover keeps explaining as we check her over. She has several small lacerations and a couple significant bruises that we can see around her suit, so she is better than we thought she was, but still, she is shaking, her heart rate is too high and her respiration is fast.
“Why don’t you tell us what happened, and we’ll decide if you’re okay,” Doctor Arches instructs her to strip with a nod and turns his back as she does so. I have no idea why he does that unless it is a holdover from his human patients because when he turns back around, Clover is sitting as nude as the day she was born.
“I got that bruise when I fell off the ladder while welding a new panel onto the damaged hull…” Clover is pointing to a barely noticeable bruise on her leg. She has to part her fur to let us see the injured area since her coat is so thick. She then begins to enumerate all of the small, and some larger, injuries she got while working today. The list is extensive. As she talks, her heart rate and respiration go down to normal levels. Her tremors stop and she looks calmer. I just sit there in awe of everything she is describing. I am going to marry a literal bad-kat.
***
“As you all have guessed by now, at 1800 hrs, ship time, the Flagship Pathfinder Damien was attacked with two torpedoes. It struck the port side engine section of the ship, resulting in damage to the external hull and micro fissures in subsequent structures. Those have been repaired.” Captain Kostova has us all in the main auditorium while he talks. The meeting is being recorded and shown across the internal monitors just in case someone can’t make the meeting. That includes the on-duty nurses, doctors, and casualties of this battle.
“We have secured the attacking ship and have its crew in custody. They are human and will be held in our brig as we head back to the nearest battle station for additional instruction. We have been in contact with several other E.S.M. vessels. There have been more attacks, all at the same time as our ship.
“A small faction of men, paired with some Birds and other species, have declared a galactic war against the Asskins. This follows a previously classified attack on the planet Asskin by a small, and elite team that resulted in the death of an Asskin and the destruction of the entire attacking ship.”
My friend, Lees, was the one who intercepted the radio transmissions that verified why the Asskins destroyed the ship. They had gone onto the planet to plant a computer virus and ended up killing an Asskin when they were escaping. They compounded the issue by taking the body aboard their ship for testing. The response was fast and decisive. There were no survivors.
“Unfortunately, all leave has been canceled,” Kostova announced as he moved on with the meeting. While this news would normally be met with a chorus of groans, a pin drop could have been heard in the auditorium. “We’ll be docking at Fort Shannon for the prisoner transfers, and then receiving our orders for the war. We are not a combat ship. That being said, we can become one if necessary. I do not know what our orders will entail. I did not want to be the captain of this vessel, or any ship, if war ever came to pass. Unfortunately, we don’t get to make our own history all the time. Sometimes, we have it thrust upon us.”
The speech was delivered in a calm, confident voice, and everyone seems reassured as they begin to file out of the assembly hall for some much-needed sleep and food. The whole battle was a few hours long, with the longest part being waiting for the marines to get back. That doesn’t mean that everyone isn’t exhausted.
One look at Clover and I can tell she is practically dead on her feet. Immediately after being cleared for duty, her team was back working on repairs. As soon as the ship boarding teams were back, we were inundated with patients. Every Marine had to be evaluated for their health and safety. Every minor injury is treated, no matter how small. We had some more severe injuries as well. Our surgical suite has been in use almost since the first torpedo hit.
“Let’s head back to my dorm and we can get some sleep,” I suggest as I swipe my cheek against hers. She leans into me as I do this, letting me feel her love and exhaustion.
“That sounds like a smart plan,” she says through a yawn. “However, I don’t feel like being smart right now. I’m hungry and I want the rest of my dinner.”
I am taken aback at the idea. I planned on having the replicator make me some tuna, eat it raw, and then crash in my bed. I think she’s talking about going back to the Captain’s Diner and finding her plate.
“Clover, I’m not sure that the Captain’s Diner is open. Nor are they going to have your food still available. It’s been hours.”
“They’ll be open. There are three things that people do after near-death experiences like this one. Sleep and eat, and they’re going to want to take advantage of the latter.” Clover stands, shakes herself, and starts trotting towards the diner.
“That was only two things…” I call out after her as I race to catch up with her. The look she gave me was pure evil, and for some reason, I am here for it.
***
The diner is packed. There are people everywhere. We’re sitting on the hostess’s bar, waiting to be seated, somewhere. Clover seems to have been right, just about everyone is eating, drinking, and being overall merry. The celebration of surviving and honoring those that didn’t permeate the atmosphere, taking what is normally a quiet dinner to almost party levels.
Just as I am thinking that there was no way that we were getting a spot, Lees, my best friend, sees me. He’s sitting with his girlfriend when he spots us. Moving quickly but carefully, he manages to avoid being run into or running anyone over as he crosses the diner floor and scoops us both up to sit with him.
The service is FAST. Apparently, the chefs decided that to feed this many people they had to simplify the orders. You get a choice between fish sandwiches, beef brisket, or a salad. Everyone was limited to two beers and as much water as they could hold. Both Clover and I took the fish.
“These people might be the real-life savers,” Clover mumbled as she ate the tuna as though she had never eaten before. I have to admit, it tastes amazing. It is likely the exhaustion, hunger, and stress that makes everything taste so good, but that doesn’t matter. Even the water might have come straight from heaven.
“Seriously, worth more than gold,” Lees agrees, nodding off as he eats, exhausted but happy to be alive.
END
