Alice T. Kat and the Sunset People

Headlong into mystery:

Hurtling through space, away from everything you had been familiar with and toward an unknown destination, can be an unsettling thing.

Most galactic travel takes place along regulated spaceways, but once you wander off of those, you will quickly find yourself lost in a silent sort of endless wilderness, empty cosmic frontiers so vast they can trap light for eons. Your calculations must be precise, your navigational computers current and your navigator, confident.

I had all the trust in the cosmos in Squeaker, whose attention to detail in interplanetary flights was as reliable on those journeys as were her instincts in a fight. I understood her nervousness, though, in following my most recent order–although I could not show it.

Here, we were not traveling on any recognized Republic Spaceway; we were guessing our way through the intergalactic equivalent of a two-lane path heading into an immense forest. All for what? A personal errand, one I couldn’t adequately explain to my crew: to pay tribute to a human I only knew as an infrequent visitor. They would not understand the importance of this quest and, questioned further, I might not be able to justify it. Was it worth putting these lives in danger?

Truthfully, I didn’t  know. But I had set a course to RDS-65 anyway and, in the privacy of my own chambers, I paced as I pondered the wisdom of tracking down a star that so few beings had heard of or cared about.

Beyond the portal, stars streaked by in stretched teardrops as we rocketed by. The Regent traveled smoothly, unfazed by the minor damage suffered through our encounter with the renegade Plutorians. Deezil and his crew had much to do with that; whether he exaggerated his initial reports or they were just that competent in their repairs I didn’t know–and didn’t really care. I just knew that my ship was whole, the crew safe, and that a new adventure waited.

But I had stayed in my quarters long enough. It was time to go back to the bridge and rejoin my crew and perhaps get an idea of  what the nearby star sectors looked like. I ran a quick paw over my head and, satisfied, turned toward the door.

It opened and I nearly bumped into Dillijus Rex, who had been about to request an audience. He had a bag of nip in one paw, a pipe in the other.

“Ah. There you are, my queen,” he said. “I was just looking for you. It’s time we had a serious talk about this mad quest of yours.”

Beyond The Sunset, Part II

Previously: Moments after her return to space, Alice T. Kat, Queen of the Outer Reaches, and her crew have fended off the Plutorian destruction of Earth. With repairs now under way, Alice has set a course for the mysterious star RDS-65. She may be undaunted by the fact that it is not in any approved galactic directory, but her crew does not share her confidence…

“So, it’s a mad quest, is it?” I tried to keep the irritation out of my voice and didn’t quite succeed. “Is that what the crew is saying?”

Dillijus brushed past me and let the door close behind him. “I don’t know what your crew is saying,” he said. “Those are my words, and I have plenty enough; why would I steal another’s?” He smoothed his fur, then sat on one of my cushions near my desk. He pulled out a pipe and filtered some nip into it, tapped it on the floor and gave me an inquisitive look.

“You know I care little for the Red Root,” I told him, “and I forbid members of my crew to partake while we are on mission.”

He inhaled. “Indeed, my queen, indeed.. But since I am technically not a member of your crew, and this is not a Republik-sanctioned mission, I shall do as I please.” He flashed me a bright, cheery smile. “And I am pleased.”

I snorted. He was technically correct. He was not a member of the crew, but a spiritual and social advisor on loan from the Department of Moral Imperatives–as was common practice for Spirit Officers on KatRepublic vessels. The reason most frequently used for the arrangement is that Spirit Officers answered to a higher authority and were often called upon to advise on things that fell beyond the realm of standard galactic behavioral practices. It also made them aloof from the remainder of their space-faring counterparts and allowed for a more liberal interpretation of most of those rules. They argued that because they more in tune with the nature of the cosmos through intensive instruction, they were less likely to need those rules of behavior enforced. In reality, Spirit Officers just had a stronger union. I liked Dillijus—his counsel had, indeed, proved valuable in the past—but I was wary of his order. History was replete with examples of beings who thought they were fully in tune with the moral nature of the cosmos—and the atrocities they then committed. Fortunately, Dillijus merely used the vagaries of his position to take his Nip at any and every opportunity and, less fortunately, to provide debate whenever he could. He was a teaser.

“Do what you must, then,” I said. “As for your crack about a sanctioned mission, you are wrong. It is a sanctioned mission; it is our core mission.”

“You’ve been away from the wheel too long then, my queen,” he purred. “That, or they amended the Republik Officers’ Handbook while you were dozing the last few years away on your human’s lap. I don’t recall anything about imperiling your crew by chasing nameless asteroids.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. With an effort, I kept my ears from flattening and the growl from my voice. “It has a name. RDS-65…”

“Given by a human–and one who had no authority, at that,” he broke in.

“And it’s not an asteroid; it is a star. A sun. We are not chasing it, we are traveling to it. And the crew will not be in any jeopardy.”

“So you say, most imperial majesty.”

I felt the growl coming back. “At any rate,” I snapped, “it is not a mad quest. It is a mission of mercy. You, most of all, should understand the importance of showing respect to all beings, even those many consider to be inferior—perhaps particularly those that many consider to be inferior. That is what this ‘mad quest’ is about: showing another example of the dignity and grace of the Kat Republik.”

He had settled into his cushion—my cushion—by then. His eyes were half closed and he purred when he spoke. The Nip was taking effect.

“When you put it like that, My Most Eloquent Ladyness, it sounds like a tale that needs telling.” He closed his left eye fully and opened his right, looking at me with a less-than-steady gaze. “How do you know of this place?”

I padded over to my viewing port and, for a moment, watched the billions of stars streak silently by. Billions of suns, tens of billions of possible worlds. Did they all have some kind of purpose?

“Well,” I said at last, “I was there when it was named.”

Next: The story of RDS-65 continues in Beyond the Sunset, Part III

Every Day a Reunion

“I didn’t think you had been there,” Dillijus said. “If you know where it is, why all the guesswork?”

“I have not been there. I was in the room when it was named.” There’s a difference, I thought but didn’t say, and if your lungs weren’t filled with Nip, you would have seen it.

I settled back to tell him the tale. He was silent, for once, watching me with a curious, bemused expression. I nearly accepted his new offer to share his drug. When I gently shook my head, he shrugged and took another pull on the pipe. The aroma of the drug filled the room, slightly spicy and mildly sweet and I felt the tension at the corner of my eyes ease.

It was during on of their holidays; you probably know the one. The humans get together with friends and family and exchange bright, colored packages that they shred before admiring the objects inside them and then scheme to get rid of in exchange for some other object or their primitive currency.”

Dill nodded. “Ah yes, their Yule. It was once a religious celebration of some sort, but it has since evolved into a frenzy of commercial appetites.”

“That’s the one. Normally, my human and his litter went elsewhere on that day, granting me several blessed hours of peace and solace.” I paused, remembering the quiet comfort of soft light filtered through the window shades, the respite from the ever-blaring light box and the constant, grappling affection of The Boy. Those were good days. “Not this time.”

The memory flooded back to me: my human’s nervousness, the way he fidgeted and rearranged their tableware, alternately smiling as he talked to The Boy and then wincing at some hidden pain and sadness. It was often during times like these that he paid the most attention to me, but this time was mercifully different. I regarded him in my usual, quizzical way.

When the door opened and revealed the patriarch, I was aghast. The robust man I had seen occasionally had been replaced by a shambling shadow of himself. Hair gone gray, eyes vacant—he seemed unsure of his own footsteps, as if he did not trust the solidity of the floor in front of him. My human coaxed him in and directed him to a comfortable chair, his gentle voice softer and more strained than I had ever heard it.

At once, I discarded my irritation with my previous encounters with the patriarch, who had originated ‘he Continuous Pet–which was no where near as pleasing at it sounded. Gone, too, were the hard feelings over the endless games of ‘Machine Gun’ or ‘Rudolph’ also handed down to my human. Instead, I crept up behind him and rubbed against his legs—gently, and with no intention to trip him.

Later, when they pulled out the glossy pamphlet and showed him the star, this glittering presence they dubbed RDS-65, I even managed to purr. I could not be angry at their attempt to name something they no claim to—and thus gain some ownership of it. I could not bristle over this breach in intergalactic decorum (the humans were ignorant of it, anyway). I could see, then, that every day was a sort of sad reunion and that any distant glow would be welcome, indeed.

The cold comfort of a distant star

The silence stretched the bonds of comfort and forced Dillijus Rex to clear his throat.

“Just like a human. They not only claim the naming rights of something they can barely see and will never, most like, be able to visit, but they charge their own kind for it?” He snorted with contempt. “I wonder, I truly wonder, how they’ve managed to evolve so far.”

I waved a paw in dismissal. “This is different.”

“How so?” He took another puff from his pipe and the air was briefly tinged with the acrid scent of Nip. “Did we not just fight a battle to save them from their lack of foresight? If you need reminded, we can go amidships, where repairs are still being made.”

“This is harmless. None could be affronted by this sort of thing. This name was not ascribed by some so-called scientist, or based on any astronomical phenomenon. It was not given as a sign of an impending foray, nor to signal a desire to conquer. It is more for those who gave it than the one they named it for. A reminder. So that in his absence, they can take solace in the permanence of the night sky.”

“The cold comfort of a distant star,” Dillijus said.

“Something like that.”

Dillijus shifted his weight, dampened a paw and ran it over his right eye. His tail twitched laconically.

“Well, ’tis noble of you to embrace it, then, my queen.” he said. “I’m sure your human would have appreciated it.”

It was my turn to snort. “Hah. As soon as they left that day, the prick scooped me up by my legs–all four of them–planted me on his lap and started playing Drum Kitty.” I shuddered at the memory. I didn’t know what was worse: the drum rolls or the cymbal crashes.

Just then, the high-pitched tone that preceded a call from the bridge sounded. “My Queen,” Gorryn’s slow voice crackled through the intercom, “you may want to come up here.”

I stood and stretched. “What is it, lieutenant?” I saw through the port that the streaking stars had changed, replaced by thick smudges of light that pulsed in a slow rhythm. Had we slowed? It was difficult to tell in space.

“We are nearing the end of our published charts and about to enter Unquantified Space,” he said. A slight tremor betrayed his nervousness. “I’ve ordered a reduction in our speed. Should we reverse course, or set a new one?”

I leaned against the wall. Dillijus tapped out his pipe and tucked it into his belt. A yawn revealed sharp teeth, but his expression was benign.

“I was expecting this. Sort of,” I said to him, and then turned back to the intercom. “Negative, lieutenant. Maintain speed and direction. I’ll be there shortly. Alice out.”

Unquantified Space. Called The Nullifield by some, it was a mystery to most of the GalacticRepublic. I doubted most interstellar treaties would be recognized there, and any form or assistance or rescue was unlikely. Gorryn’s nervousness was well-founded: if we went in, we were most likely on our own.

“Come, my friend,” I said to Dillijus. “Our steadying presence will be needed. This is where things get tricky.”

Into the Nullifeld

We walked in companionable silence down the hallway. If the Nip affected Dillijus Rex at all, it did not show in his gait. He was as steady as I was, as confident and purposeful. Perhaps I had just given him a lot to think about.

I waved a paw in front of the elevator, which opened with a soft whoosh of air. We stepped inside and I directed the computer to the bridge. Lights flashed through the edge of the door, telling me that we were moving. There was no other sensation, which was a bit ironic. Would it be the same in The Nullifield? I didn’t know. In fact, nobody did. Reports from those who entered it were non-existent and those that I knew had accidentally traveled there were unwilling to talk about it. Space travel itself was a fairly deceptive to many types of creatures. It wasn’t like a ship moving at the whims of wave patterns or a jet suffering the occasional knot of turbulence. There was often very little indication that you were moving at all. Deep inside the bowels of a spacecraft, it felt like you were in a motionless box.

The door opened and we stepped out into an uneasy quiet. Flicker and Squeaker were at their positions, monitoring their screens and sensors while their ears twitched with nervous energy. Arken’s tail looked a bit thick. Only Gorryn looked to be his normal self.

“Hail the Queen!” He announced. It was an unnecessary formality. Everyone knew I was there.

“At ease,” I said. Dillijus crept off to his post. Nobody spoke.

“Report.”

“Apologies, my Queen,” Squeaker said. “As far as I know, we are approaching The Nullifield. Many of my instruments are proving unreliable, so that information is a bit sketchy. I can determine no other reason for it.”

“As far as you know?”

“Aye, milady,” she responded and Flicker squirmed next to her. “As far as I know.”

“You have something else to say, Kattenent?” I couldn’t keep the testiness out of my voice.

Arken spoke up. “Forgive her, my Queen. She is nervous, nothing more–as we all are. The Nullifield is not a zone we should enter lightly. In fact, there are some among the Kat Republic who would advise against us entering it, at all. Perhaps if we had some further indication of our goal in this, or where the orders originated…?”

I was about to snap a reply and remind him of who captained The Regent when Gorryn interrupted.

“What is there to be nervous about?” He stood up a bit theatrically and curled around the base of his chair momentarily before he continued. “The Nullifeld? The unknown? Dogwash. What is our task, our charge, our…mission…if not to occasionally venture into the unknown? If we do not, if no one has that courage, how can anything become known? Wasn’t Earth, a place we have all frequented in the past, unknown to us at one point? And do we all not long for the long days spent resting beneath Her gentle sun?

“Besides,” he continued, “I don’t think we have anything to fear precisely because no other Kat has talked about the Nullifield—and no other known species has either, for that matter. Given the predilection of every single sentient race to talk about the bad things they’ve encountered, to spoil all the good things they’ve experienced with the single sour part of them, to boast of their misery and misfortune, the fact that nobody has said anything about our destination–even though some have been there–to me means it’s not such a bad place after all.”

Gorryn settled back, paws crossed, and flashed me a mischievous grin. I knew I was staring at him and could feel my eyes blinking—rapidly—but I could formulate no other immediate response. After a moment I turned my attention back to Squeaker.

“Well, you heard the Kat,” I said. “Stay the course.”

Movement without movement

Previously: Alice T. Kat, Queen of the Outer Reaches, and her crew of feline space travelers have narrowly escaped from a crew of renegade Plutorian dissidents. Alice decides to take their crew on a mission to a distant star and encounters some resistance from her crew…

Everyone was silent. I again nodded my thanks to Gorryn, whose calm words and unusual logic had gone a long way toward easing the worries of my crew.  Although the tension was no longer palpable, it was clear that Squeaker and Arken–Flicker, too, probably–were uncomfortable with our actions. I settled into my chair and ran a paw across my forehead. The Regent flew on–or so I assumed. Again, it was an odd sensation: movement without movement. There was not so much as a bump from a passing piece of space debris. Moments ticked by.

Save for the cool, canned air, it reminded me of a summer afternoon back on my adopted homeland of Earth. I had a pillow that my human had placed on a window sill that gathered a good deal of sunlight and I spent most of my days there, basking in the gentle warmth of that little sun. It also gave me a good view of the approach to his domicile and allowed me to hear him when he arrived home. There was plenty of time to sharpen my claws in anticipation of his attention or to seek a discrete spot where I could hide.

As we continued, I sensed the tension on the bridge fade, as if my crew had had similar thoughts. The first step to overcoming fear is to equate the situation with something you are comfortable with–or at least familiar with. When conjuring the image of the brilliant mid-day sun, the cold reaches of dark space seemed a little less intimidating.

It was Arken who broke the silence. His voice was thick with emotion, although of what type I had no clue.

“My queen,” he said, then cleared his throat and began again. “My queen, we are picking up some unusual readings ahead. I think we are nearing the end.”

Already? I had always thought the Nullifield would be a larger place. We had not been traveling through the starless ink for that long, unless some bizarre aspect of this uncharted place disabled our instruments and cognitive ability alike.

“Excellent. That was not so bad, was it?” There were a few nervous chuckles, but also an underlying statement that went unsaid. Even If we were at the far edge of the Nullifield and had come through that mysterious space unscathed, we still didn’t know exactly what was on the other side. I was about to change that, for good or for ill.

“Put it onscreen,” I ordered.

Everything, and nothing

Previously: Alice T. Kat, Queen of the Outer Reaches, and her crew of feline space explorers have embarked on a mission toward a distant star: RDS-65, a mysterious, as yet unvisited sun located beyond the infamous Nullifield. After successfully navigating the pitch black, starless void, they’ve at last come close enough to view their objective….

The screen popped and flickered to life. Blurry and wavering at first, RDS-65 snapped into focus as the Regent’s external sensors measured the distance and made adjustments to capture the size of the star and its relation to a nearby bluish orb that was dotted with green and accentuated with swirling white cloud cover.

The lost star was a majestic sight after the flat blackness of the Nullifield. About as large as Earth’s own sun, it radiated a deep yellow warmth that was tinged with orange; a sign of its relative young age. An occasional vortex swirled on its shimmering surface, I felt a purr growing inside and I was reminded of a trip my human had once taken me on while I lived on his planet.

He had snatched me up from my window sill, startling me out of a warm nap on a late fall day when the shadows cool and dry.

“What a good little kitty,” he said, raising my hackles. “Do you want to take a trip? It’ll be over in a minute, I promise.”

He stuffed me into a box that was little more than reinforced cardboard with a mesh side, snapped the latches and then carried me outside. The destination, I was to learn later, was one of their primitive animal medicine doctors, where I was poked and prodded like a common domesticated feline and, worse yet, inoculated against some vaguely described earthly disease–as if the lowly germs of that inferior planet posed a threat to one of my distinguished bloodline.

On the way, however, as I strained against my temporary prison, I saw the line of houses as we traveled down the street in his dilapidated vehicle. I had thought my window sill and its collected light a special place, yet each home we passed had something similar–if not in the large front window, then one of the smaller ones on the first floor or the peaked accents that jutted from the roof.  The windows were everywhere, the light and warmth plentiful. The special sense of individual comfort came from my own mind.

The Regent dipped slightly, caught by RDS-65’s gravity field and Squeaker maneuvered her out of that subtle danger.

“What is so special about this star?” She muttered.

“Nothing,” I answered, startling her. I don’t think she meant to be heard. “And everything.”

I pointed to the blue orb. It was surely a planet and it looked habitable.

“Take us closer,” I ordered. “I want to see what’s there.”

The Sunset People

Previously: Alice T. Kat, Queen of the Outer Reaches, and her crew of Kat Republic space explorers have taken on an ill-advised (and unpopular) voyage to RDS-65, a recently named star that lies beyond the mysterious Nullifield. After successfully navigating that void, they have discovered a new universe with an earth-like, blue planet….

We approached the blue globe and a bizarre feeling came over me, a combination of anticipation and fear, mixed with a little bit of sadness. I could not adequately explain to my crew why I wanted to come here. They would have listened, certainly, and followed my directions to the letter, but they may have questioned my leadership privately, or scoffed at my sentimentality.

I could afford neither of those things. I was the Queen of the Outer Reaches, bold, defiant and implacable. How could I tell them that this star was named after my human’s father, recently departed, and that I wanted to see what his legacy would be? For a human to name a star is folly to begin with. To claim ownership over something you will never visit, something that you need assistance to see, and something that will exist just as readily without your interference or attention—that is the height of human folly, and everyone on the bridge knew it. Only Dillijus Rex, my science officer and philosopher, would attempt any defense.

And yet…

Yet we moved closer, spurred by my nostalgic curiosity.

The atmosphere of the blue planet was completely free of space debris. Not a single satellite drifted or spun within our line of sight. Our communications channels were silent, free of the interference caused by deliberate surface to space emissions. As we drew closer, we saw clouds swirling above deep blue seas, casting shadows on rugged lands ripe with the green tint of foliage. I could only imagine what it would be like, looking up into a pleasant blue and white sky, unconcerned by whatever lay beyond the reach of their atmosphere.

“Orbit achieved,” Squeaker informed me. “Easy enough. Shall we prepare a landing party?”

I shook my head. My throat was suddenly thick. “No. Can we get a surface visual?”

“Indeed,” Arken said. “There are few visual disturbances today.” His paw moved deftly over his control board and a few beeps punctuated the movement. The screen flashed, the gradually shifted into focus. We saw a rounded hill, ripe with green grass and scattered with white flowers. A single being walked along the edge of a forest, hunched with the weight of some type of satchel. The being was black and white, clawed and bipedal.

I leaned in to get a closer look and as I did so the figure stopped, stiffened, then slowly straightened as the satchel fell to the ground. It scratched its head, which was covered with the same fuzzy hair, and looked from side to side as if it sensed something was amiss. Then, every so slowly, the creature turned its head and looked directly at the screen. Its head was white, with black circles around its eyes and twitching, rounded ears. A soft pink snout rose in greeting and its lips split into a wide welcoming grin.

Then, it waved.

I felt a purr grow in my throat and I saluted the creature. “Behold,” I said, “the Sunset…no, the SunRISE people.”

“Cute little thing,” Gorryn rumbled. “Shall we go have a visit?”

“I don’t think so, Kattennant,” I answered. “It was enough for me to see. I think, for once, my humans did good. RDS-65 is a fine legacy, indeed. Squeaker? Take us back to charted space.”

“Aye, Milady,” she said. I detected a touch of relief, but let it pass. I felt no need to explain myself, or the mission. It was time to move on.

Epilogue

Previously: Alice T. Kat, Queen of the Outer Reaches, and her crew successfully navigated The Nullifield and found a habitable planet orbiting the mysterious RDS-65. Satisfied, Alice has ordered her crew back to known space and, ultimately, their home world….

Later, I rested in my chambers watching the empty blackness of The Nullifield burst into the uncountable billions of shimmering dots among the ethereal vapor that hung in the universe. It was a sudden thing, like flipping a switch, not a gradual change.

“Fascinating,” I said, although I was alone.

Just then my doorpad beeped. There was a slight hesitation, then a question. “My queen?”

It was Dillijus Rex. I was curious what he thought of our recent quest and so I let him in. He went directly to his usual spot on the divan and pulled out a pouch of Nip that already had a packed pipe in it.

“I think you’re guilty,” he said after two strong puffs.

“Guilty?! Of what?” It was useless to remind him to address me by my proper station. Dillijus cared little for formalities of any kind.

“Guilty of being a sentimental old Kat.”

“Watch your tone–and your tongue,” I growled. Informality I could allow. Outright insubordination I could not.

“There was nothing special about that star, at all, and you knew it before you gave the order to seek it out.” He took another pull on the pipe and held the Nip for a second before exhaling. “I know how you feel about humans and their insistence on naming things that don’t belong to them.”

“The Sunrise People thought it was pretty special,” I answered.

“Just so. Quite right.” He stood and walked–a bit unsteadily–toward me. We looked out at the vast shining tapestry of space. “Look at them all, the stars, insignificant–almost forgettable–on their own. You barely know they’re all there. But each is vital to someone or something. Each has beings dependent on them. Taken together, the whole of the cosmos–it’s a beautiful thing.”

“Indeed. Everyone, no matter how small they seem, is important to someone.”

I felt his paw encircle my shoulders. “I knew you were just a sentimental Kat.”

I shrugged it off. “Not just a sentimental Kat,” I reminded him gently. “I am also your queen.”

“That you are,” he said. He moved back toward the divan. “So, are you still intent on heading home? Because if you are, there’s something you should know. But before I tell you…you may need this.”

He held up the pipe. There was no mischief in his eyes, only sadness.