A Pirate Cat's Tail
My latest sci-fi short story, where two pirates find a giant cat aboard their spaceship and must find a way to coexist to survive.
Dawood bobbed his head to “Eye of the Tiger” for the twentieth time since he and Rog fled the planet Hunia. “And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night…” he sang loudly as he piloted Big Daddy through the emptiness of space. They had just reached the Thrakian galaxy, so remote from their quarry’s former owners as to quash Dawood’s fears of being caught. His smile beamed between a black handlebar mustache and a thick Viking-style beard that flowed down to his chest. Sure, the last score had been just a run-of-the-mill heist for the pair of bandits. But Dawood always felt cocksure in his ability to make a quick getaway in his Wyvern-class mid-bulk freighter, one of the fastest spaceships out there.
“Eye of the tiger again?” came Rog’s squeaky voice over the intercom. “At least keep it in the bridge, man. No need to blast it across the entire ship.”
“We’re celebrating Rog,” Dawood radioed back, barely able to contain his joy. “This is one of the biggest scores we’ve had in a while. Crimson Junderite will go for a pretty penny on the black market. The UN aren’t the only ones who need the mineral for long range communications across the universe.”
“Are you smiling?” Rog asked, sensing a change in Dawood’s tone.
“So, what if I am?” Dawood asked defensively, although he knew exactly what Rog was on about. “We got a huge score that’s worth a buttload of credits and survived. Breath the free air, Rog. And who says being space pirates doesn’t pay?”
“The only thing I smell is hot metal and cooked meats,” Rog radioed. “Anyways, all I’m saying is happy Dawood is a nice change from Oscar the Grouch. Just enough with the repeats. Give us a happy song.”
“Fine. But Big Daddy likes it, don’t you?” Dawood asked the ship as he caressed the control panel in front of him. He decorated the pilot station with his troll doll collection, long fluffy hairs of pinks and blues and greens scattered between glowing switches and buttons. He liked to run his hand over their heads. The softness of the sheepskin wool against his rough hands comforted him.
“AWOOGA,” the ship’s alarm screamed suddenly. Red emergency lights flashed overhead. Dawood checked the control panel and noticed that the cargo bay in the ship’s lower level was losing pressure, fast.
“What the hell’s happening down there, Rog?” Dawood demanded over the radio, his smile quickly turning to a frown as panic set in. “We’re losing pressure.”
“I don’t know, Captain. But I’m on it,” Rog radioed back.
Big Daddy’s interior had two levels. The cargo bay sat in the lower deck between the main airlock and a common area. Rog climbed down the ladder from the engine room to the lower deck, where he found a digital panel outside the cargo bay door that allowed him to control the airlock. Rog was a burly looking, olive-skinned man who stood just under five feet tall. He was short enough to need a stool to reach the control panel, but barely tall enough not to be classified as a dwarf. After a few minutes the alarm stopped shrieking and the emergency lights faded.
“All good, Captain,” Rog radioed back to Dawood. “Looks like the main airlock ramp cracked open. But I closed it. Lucky for us we upgraded and got those failsafe measures installed. Otherwise, the door would have opened, and poof! There goes our payday.”
“Sure, if you call salvaging a malfunction lucky,” Dawood huffed into the radio. “What’s the point of an upgrade if the system still craps out?”
“Narf!” Rog yelled absentmindedly. “Back to your old crotchety self I see.”
“Listen, Rog…”
“Umm, Captain,” Rog said, cutting off Dawood. “I think you should come down here. There’s something you need to see.”
Dawood reached Rog within seconds. “What am I looking at?” Dawood asked tersely as he approached the cargo bay door. Rog didn’t reply, but peered through the door’s small window, still standing on the stool. The cargo bay was a large room, two decks tall. The maroon interior walls were slightly curved to better contain air pressure. Stairs from the floor led up to a catwalk that allowed direct access to the upper deck through sliding doors. At the head of the cargo bay was the ship’s main airlock with a ramp that opened out.
Dawood’s jaw dropped. Rog raised his eyebrows and nodded his head in acknowledgment. The men stared at a large animal-like creature sitting in the center of the cargo bay. It looked like an oversized Sphynx cat that stood about five feet tall on all four legs. It was huge, yellow-eyed, and hairless, with purple leopard spots running across its body. The creature’s tail perked up when Dawood approached.
“It’s a Qitat,” Dawood whispered, not sure if the creature could hear him. “How did it get onboard?”
“Must have snuck onboard when we were loading our booty,” Rog said. “What’s a Qitat?”
“Clearly you didn’t read the manual I sent you,” Dawood quietly barked at Rog. “How many times do I need to tell you? You gotta do the research on the planet we’re plundering. What kind of pirate are you?”
“Narf!” Rog said, raking his knuckles against his forehead in embarrassment. “Sorry, Captain. So, what is it?”
“It’s a big cat, except it’s sentient and can speak,” Dawood said. “Their speech sounds like hissing to us. But they have a knack for learning languages. This one probably speaks English. The UN’s colonizers speak English across the galaxies, including on Hunia.”
“Great,” Rog said. “They speak English. Anything else we should know?”
“Why yes, stupid human. Indeed, there is,” said a voice in their heads. The men looked through the glass and saw the creature turn his long head towards them. He squinted his yellow eyes into narrow slits. “We communicate telepathically in any language we learn.”
“So, you can read our minds?” Rog asked, looking up at Dawood.
“That’s what telepathy means, Rog,” Dawood said, annoyed at Rog’s simple mindedness. “How did you not notice a giant cat in our cargo bay?
“Narf!” Rog yelled.
“I assume he’s not the bright one,” the creature said. “I hid behind the mess over in the corner. You should really clean this place up.” The creature nodded his head to the left, where a pile of boxes lay strewn together with nets.
“I told you to clean that up,” Dawood said. Before Rog had a chance to respond, Dawood turned to the creature. “What’s your name?” he asked aloud, wondering if the creature was reading his mind.
“My name is Bamuzu,” he said and began to rise to his feet. “Some call me Bam-Bam.”
Rog laughed. Dawood hit him in the head and mumbled for him to shut up.
“You find my name funny, human?” Bam-Bam said. “There is something else you don’t know. On my home planet, we feed on a humanoid species about half your size. They sustain us for days. Imagine how long I could feast on a couple of humans like yourselves.”
Before the men knew what was happening, Bam-Bam jumped towards the cargo bay door and stared directly at the two men. Then he flattened his ears, swished his tail, and charged. Bam-Bam crashed against the door with a loud thud. The two men felt the door shake and instinctively jumped backwards to avoid getting smashed.
“I thought cats didn’t headbutt when they fight?” Rog asked.
“We are Qitat, imbecile. Not some simple, domesticated animal,” Bam-Bam hissed.
“Stay here, Rog,” Dawood said and ran up the ladder to the first level.
“Don’t leave me, Captain!” Rog screamed as Dawood disappeared up the shaft. “This cat looks hungry. And I’m just the right size.”
“I’ll be right back,” Dawood yelled. “He can’t get through that door. It’s reinforced Pennsylvania steel.”
Dawood’s mind raced as he ran down the foredeck from the engine room towards the bridge. Just when he was in the clear, Dawood thought, a large human-eating cat stowed away on his ship. There was no way they could survive with that thing aboard. Humans on Hunia had never coexisted with Qitat. Dawood couldn’t blame the Qitat for that. After all, the UN were occupiers and usurpers. But he quickly put the thought of making peace with the animal out of his mind. He had to get rid of it fast, or he might be its last meal. He could open the main airlock and send the Qitat into the cold abyss. But the Crimson Junderite and the rest of their supplies would get sucked out with it. Big Daddy couldn’t run on fumes, and they needed to eat.
Dawood reached a small door halfway to the bridge. He punched a button and the door opened, revealing an arms locker chock full of weapons. Handguns, rifles, grenade launchers, sub-machine guns, a bunch of knives, and some special class stun guns, for the big ones. He grabbed a stun gun labeled “shockwave,” and a sub-machine gun, Rog’s favorite.
Dawood returned to the cargo bay entrance and found Rog exactly where he left him, mouth agape and staring through the door’s single window. Bam-Bam was now on the cargo bay floor, laying on his back. A wooden crate floated above him in midair. Bam-Bam used all four of his legs to rotate the box in circles without touching it and smiled, like a cat playing with a ball of yarn.
“Great, it’s got telekinetic powers too,” said Dawood, whose mood continued to dampen.
“Should we try to reason with it?” Rog asked. “I’m not sure how intelligent it is, Captain.”
Dawood huffed at Rog’s question. Sometimes he didn’t know why he kept Rog around. The man had a brain the size of a walnut. Then he remembered how good with a gun Rog was and handed him a sub-machine gun. Dawood opened the sliding door and they stepped onto the catwalk. They climbed down to the cargo bay floor and faced Bam-Bam.
“Ugh, smells like mushroom soup in here,” Rog said, pinching his nose. He inched forward, ahead of Dawood. “Here kitty, kitty.”
Bam-Bam side-eyed the men and hurled the crate at them. They ducked in time to avoid getting splattered, but Bam-Bam rose to his feet quickly, ready to pounce.
“Wait,” Dawood shouted, holding up a hand towards Bam-Bam. “Let’s talk about this. See, I’m lowering my weapon.”
“What’s there to discuss?” Bam-Bam asked sarcastically. “I’m about to have my dinner.”
“Well, if you eat us then who’s going to fly this ship?” Dawood asked, praying that Bam-Bam wouldn’t attack. “I know the Crimson Junderite grants you telekinetic powers. And yes, you can hurl things at us. Or eat us. But you can’t perform complex tasks telekinetically, like pilot this ship. So, if you eat us then we all die.”
Bam-Bam paused, seeming to consider the problem. “You speak true, human,” he said. “But I will not die at your hands, or any human’s.”
“We don’t want to kill you,” Dawood said. “Tell us, why did you come aboard our ship?”
“I needed a way off Hunia. Your ship was the perfect getaway ride.”
“What were you trying to get away from?” Dawood asked.
“On my planet I was like you, a bandit. My people wanted me dead for stealing from our royal family, those greedy bastards. The UN wanted me dead too. Same reasons. I needed to get out while I still had my skin. And, well, I’ve always wanted to explore the universe.”
As Bam-Bam spoke, Dawood realized that he could be a useful addition to their crew. “Join us,” he said. “We could use a crewman with your skills.”
“What’s in it for me, human? My people have never coexisted with yours.”
“Well first off, my name’s Dawood, and this is Rog,” Dawood said, pointing a thumb to Rog. “Second, you get a third of anything we take, including our haul of the Crimson Junderite. We’ll keep some around for you to use those telekinetic powers when needed. Third, those humans on Hunia aren’t my people. They’re a bunch of warmongers and they prey on the weak. We rob the rich. Sounds like you do too.”
Bam-Bam’s ears perked up as he considered Dawood’s proposition. By this time Rog had lowered his gun and was picking his nose. Bam-Bam caught Dawood rolling his eyes at Rog and the Qitat smiled and swished his tail.
“We won’t know if we can coexist unless we try,” Dawood said.
“Deal,” Bam-Bam hissed.
“Great,” said Dawood, his frown turning into a smile. “Welcome to Big Daddy’s crew.”
***
Later that evening Dawood, Rog, and Bam-Bam found themselves sitting around the dining table in the galley. Dawood sat opposite of Bam-Bam, who perched himself on his hindlegs. The glossy oak table shined against the dim lights overhead. Dawood hovered over a large bowl of hummus with a pita chip in hand as he munched on his last bite. Rog chatted about how he was going to spend his share of the bounty. It occurred to Dawood that they would now split the payout three ways instead of two. A little price to pay for coexistence with a killer cat, he thought, not to mention a new pirate in crime. But he still worried if Bam-Bam might decide that he and Rog would yet make a good meal. He reminded himself that he didn’t know Bam-Bam. Benefit of the doubt, he thought. For all he knew Bam-Bam would be good to his word. Dawood hoped so.
Just then Dawood heard a hissing noise next to him. He looked up and found Bam-Bam standing next to him, the Qitat’s yellow eyes staring at Dawood just inches away from his face. Dawood panicked, fearing that he had just made a colossal mistake. Bam-Bam’s gargantuan face loomed over Dawood’s, his coarse whiskers brushing up against Dawood’s beard. Dawood stood still, frozen with fear of impending death. Bam-Bam’s voice then came through into his mind.
“Dude, move your shit out of the way so I can get in there.”
“What?” Dawood asked. His fear began to dissipate, making way for confusion.
“I love hummus,” Bam-Bam said. “I once stole a stash of the humans’ food on Hunia. They had hummus. I ate it for days.”
Dawood slowly removed his hand from overtop the bowl and slid it over to Bam-Bam. He let go of the breath he held and sighed. Bam-Bam buried his face in the metallic bowl and lapped it up furiously. After a few moments he lifted his face, which was covered in the pasty, yellow dip.
“Needs more garlic,” Bam-Bam said, then licked his face.
“Narf!” Rog yelled. And for the first time Big Daddy’s new crew laughed together.
I love Bam-Bam! I want to read more tails 🙃 about this motley crew
I love the name Crimson Junderite. I love how the story is funny and keeps you intrigued. Can't wait to read more 🙂