Shtankadoodle's Online Diary


Aug 31, 2016

The Sun Colony: Part 3

Category: Star Cats
Posted by: weedles

I’m dazed.  Like, I’m about to pass out, which isn’t good for the captain of a flagship spaceship on a super-duper important mission to be.  Good news is, since I’m pretty much always dazed, my crew has learned to take care of ship-duties without me.  Which means more time for deliciously unhealthy eating.  I know, I know, I’m not supposed to eat so many King’s Buffet cans of cat food a day, but it just tastes so good!  How can I help the delicious bargain value of cheap, mass-produced, watery, synthetically meat-flavored, intoxicating goop.  Mmm.  Which, ironically, (did I just use that word correctly?) is actually what Doctor Spot says is making me so dizzy and lightheaded.  But how can I resist?!  I find myself stumbling through the banks and drifts of fur that’s accumulated along the edges of the corridors, struggling to navigate my way to the Medical Hub on the ship.  (Ugh.  Shedding season.)  I’m crossing my whiskers that I’m going to get a different prescription than “For your very own wellbeing, stop eating King’s Buffet!”  Because that’s simply out of the option, Doctor Spot should know by now.  Suddenly I hear an alarmingly loud noise, like a gasp, and then it sputters silent.  As I see the busy crew members racing to and fro by me, suddenly stop, some burying their ears into the carpet, I remember that my hearing isn’t really that great.  Or good.  Or okay.  In fact, sometimes I forget why I even have ears on my head.  Couldn’t they at least be hidden away better, anyway?  I mean, I’m not really one to get embarrassed, but it is pretty uncomfortable to be at fancy dinner party, scoffing down my food, and looking up at the hosts with cat food clinging to my ear.  You know, because my ears kind of get in the way when I’m eating.  Eating?  Ooh, Food.  Mmm.  I’m hungry.  If you know anything about me, it’s that my mind kind of loops.  And gets tangled up.  And stuff.  Oh, and it forgets things a lot, which is why this happened:


Meowza!!”  I practically jump out of my fur.  Since when did anything ever sound so frightening in the history of frightening sounds?  And where did the noise come from, anyway?  I’ve certainly never heard something so intensely alarming before, I figure.  And I’ve heard Subcommander Ocee demote somebody, which is very, very, frightening indeed.  In fact, that might be a life-scarring incident.  But this?!  I could still feel my bones shaking, which come to think of it, might be because of all those King’s Buffet meals I devour.  But that’s aside from the point:  Certainly, if I had ever heard a sound even partly similar to that which nearly toppled me over sideways, I would remember it!  Brr, Yes, I decided to myself, I would have definitely remembered a noise that nerve-racking.  Definitely.  Suddenly the ship starts to vibrate, and I brace myself again, by taking the lead of the over crew members and crouching low to the floor, our heads in our paws.


The noise keeps getting louder, and suddenly, tufts of fur begin to ping and pong across the room, blowing breezily this way and that.  Then more!  Raging currents of black, brown, and calico follicles woosh and swoosh this way and that, tingling my nose.  I imagine that this is something like a blizzard, though, besides some crazy Youtube videos that I fall asleep halfway through, I wouldn’t know.  You see, when I’m off from being captain of the starship, Catnip, I actually live a very calm, lazy, nap-a-lot, eat-a-lot life (surprised?) in South Louisiana.  So…not a lot of snow.  And then, I remember how peaceful my life was.  I would eat.  And then I would sleep.  And then I would eat again, nothing like the bustling hubbub of the captain’s life on the starship!  I find myself longing to not have wanted an important position or an adventuresome life.  Mechanically limping through the cookie-cutter neighborhood that my pets, er, humans lived in was good enough!  But no, I wanted more, and now I was going to see the end!  I wasn’t ready to hit the big sack yet!  I was only age…um, well, is age really important?  Suddenly, somewhere through the wild torrents of whipping fur, I hear a joyous shout of triumph.

“They’ve got the air conditioning repaired!”  Music to my ears.  I get up from the crouched position I was in, gazing, not in fear, but in hope at the fur blowing everywhere.  For days now, my cremates and I had been living a miserable existence, sweltering in heat worse than that of South Louisiana as we flew into a literal sun, without air-conditioning.  Which, ahem, might have been my fault… but anyway…  Now though, thanks to my brilliant crew, the air-conditioning was fixed!  Well, not quite, with it’s current whirlwind like state, but at least it was cool!  As air coursed through my fur, rippling down my tail, hope did too, that soon my life on the Catnip would be bearable.  That I wouldn’t have to waste it all away in naps just to escape the oh-so-hot reality.  I mean, I would do that anyway, but it brought about hope to think that I didn’t have to.  Make sense?

I savor what has occupied my dreams for so long now:  Moving air, and I nearly feel as though as I could up and fly away with happiness.  My paws lifting off the ground, I could soar!  Wait.  My paws were lifting off the ground.  Hey, knock it off air!  It was just a figure of thought!  I try hard to hunch down and bring all of my eleven-pound weight to the ground.  Useless!  Simply useless!  I sputter to myself, and to my disbelief, I found myself flying through the corridor, whipping this way and that, a blur in the blizzard of fur.  Now if that sputtering sound I heard earlier is terrifying, one ought to hear me yowling my head off as I’m thrusted and soar through the corridor of my ship, bumping and banging into pretty much everything hard, whirling dizzily in circles and loopdiloops that could rival the thought processes of my brain.  Now that, I correct myself from earlier, is very frightening indeed.

Now, after a certain amount of time, thirteen minutes did it for me, of gusting and flying through the corridor, carried by the merciless currents of the air-conditioning vents along with the monotonous swirls and flurries of fur, one begins to doubt the reliability of one’s air-conditioning fix-it crew.  Seriously doubt.  And by thirty minutes of riding air currents among throngs of fur, it’s pretty much all-out despair.  Well, at least I’ll have some good content for my Captain’s log, I think, slamming into the metal archway to some doublewide door adorning the hall of my ship.  Usually it’s just like this:  I woke up.  I ate.  I slept.  Another thing happened on the ship that I can’t quite recall.  Oh, wait.  Hold on…  I’ve got nothing.  No!  Wait.  Hold on…  Some space station is about to be thrown into the depths of a sun.  I’m hot.  I’m going to go to sleep again.  Trust me, even for me, that gets a bit repetitive.

As I’m being repeatedly chunked against the metal archways that camouflage in amongst the rest of the near-identical doors on my ship, the Catnip, something seems to stick out in my mind about these two doors.  Sure, it pretty much looks just like every other door on my ship…  But something was different about these.  And the fact that hectic mind was still thinking about that difference meant that it was mildly important.  To my bewildered delight, the doors begin to slide open.  Between the moments it took the smoothly gliding, double pockets doors to slide open, me to close my eyes tight and really hope my anemic skin (No, having anemic skin isn’t because of all the King’s Buffet I eat.  Well, I don’t think it is, anyway.  It’s because we cats don’t really get a lot of sunlight on our ski.  After all, it’s hidden underneath a bur-ridden coat of fur.  Er, coat of fur) doesn’t get pinched in the grooves besides the door, and me to be hurled into the room that was just opened to me, I remember why these two doors framed by one unimaginative metal archway stood out in my mind:  There were two doors instead of one.  Every private living quarters or closet on the Catnip has one door, but the Medical Hub, among other places, was one of the rooms in the handful that had two doors.  The Medical Hub was where I had been going in the first place!  Although, I think, pain throbbing at me from being whipped around the corridor, for the life of me I can’t remember why…

“C-Captain?!” A voice I couldn’t place stammered, helping me up from the heap of limp fur and body parts that I had collapsed into.  I was pretty certain my foot wasn’t supposed to be in front of my nose like that, but since I didn’t particularly know much about the feline anatomy—the feline eatnatomy is a different story—I decided to let it roll like water off the cat’s back.  I used that analogy right, didn’t I?

Through blurry, dizzy vision I see a spinning face in front of me, but I can’t quite place it…  Is that Doctor Spot?  I ask myself, bewildered.  Since I’m not much of recognizing faces (or remembering names, I admit) kind of fellow, I assume that it is my cheerful doctor.

“Doctor Spot?” I asked, wobbly as I try to gather my footing.  Now that I’m not shrieking I can hear several other desperate yowls from outside.  My heart does a flip-flop.  All that time I had thought that I was the only helpless cat being tossed and flipped in the air current.  How much longer would these others be flung around like sacks of cat food outside?  How much longer until the air-conditioning was fixed?  I was beginning to the think that the hot, depressing, sticky desert that the Catnip had been just a few moments ago was better than the tornado roughing up the ship now.  And I’m not kidding about the “desert”, either.  Ensign Ricketta tried planting cacti outside the room to her quarters!  And they grew!  I hear a chorus of snickers erupt from around me, and I realize that I’m not as isolated as I thought I was.  My eyes adjusting to the bright light from the dark fur storm they had just weathered, I see pairs of triangular cat ears.  And—I gasp—Doctor Spot didn’t have any!  The sea of cat refugees parts a little.

“This is Klein,” The real Doctor Spot clarifies for me,“He’s a Scottish Fold, and his ears are supposed to be folded back.  I think.  Anyway, he’s interning here for a bit.”  Doctor Spot frowns a little, which isn’t like him, as I recall, and then silently returns back to his talkative self.

“Captain, I’m so glad that you only have minor injuries,” Doctor Spot immediately takes to my petty cuts and bruises, “We heard a terrible shrieking like the hull of the ship was cracking in two!  We didn’t know it was you until we dared let you in.  That thumping in here really scared a few of us!”  Doctor Spot admitted with a lighthearted chuckle.  Then with unexpected solemness, he turns to Klein.

“You need to replace her bandages, again.”  Klein nodded, his head stuck on some sort loop, because he just kept nodding.  Up.  And down.  Doctor Spot gives me a pat, gesturing that he would be back with me again.  Then he gave an apologetic glance and stepped to the side with Klein.  Somehow, even though I usually can’t hear past twelve inches, I’m acutely aware of what’s being spoken by my crew members several feet away.

“It’s because of her worsening condition isn’t it?”  Klein asked, fidgeting a little.  Wait.  I pause, running the name ‘Klein’ over in my mind.  I certainly didn’t recognize it, but maybe…

“Kaleidoscope?” I tap on Klein’s shoulder.  That was his name, wasn’t it?  I was so sure… Yes!  It was all coming back to me now!  Why Kaleidoscope had come to my office last week—or was it just a couple hours ago?  And I was interviewing him about being my newest ensign—newest engineering ensign, actually.  So why in, er, out of the world was Kangaroo interning at the medical bay.  What exactly was was going on underneath my nose?

“Um?  Sir?  Yes Sir?”

“Why aren’t you at your station in Engineering, that is where Subcommander Ocee and I appointed you to be, Ensign?”  I ask in my captain-y voice and all.  Whoa!  It actually held some power!  Kayak withdrew a little and exchanged glances with Doctor Spot.  Now this was adding some interest to my day spent being whipped around a metal corridor.  Doctor Spot didn’t say anything, but he angled his eyes directly at Kayak as if he were asking my same question.  Kayak trembled a little.

“I need to go to the restroom, if I may be excused, Sirs,”  Kiwi didn’t wait for me to figure out that his statement was technically a question.  He made a beeline for the door nearest him, then, emerging with a mop bucket on his paw, went into the door next to that.  He locked it.

Now it’s my turn to exchange glances with Doctor Spot.

“What was that about?”  I meow under my breath, knowing full well that Doctor Spot is somebody I can trust and confide in.  Doctor Spot sighs, looking around him anxiously, and then twitching his ears backwards:

“There’s some funny business going on around here Captain, I need to change my patient’s bandages pronto, but I’ll give you the brief rundown.”  Doctor Spot again glanced around him.  Suddenly he blurted out,“Have you noticed a lot of cats with their ears folded back recently?”  I think for a second.  Actually, I had.  Not only were several of the colonists onboard the Catnip cats with weird, genetic mutations, but Kite-guy was, too.  Doctor Spot must have seen the look on my face.

“I thought so.  There’s a bunch that looks like their up to know good that keeps showing up in the medical hub.  They look like the colonists, but they don’t talk about anything, really.  They just shuffle around my medical hub, and leave.  And then there is Klein-,” I feel obligated to correct my dear doctor.

“Kinkajou,”  Doctor Spot scrunches up his eyes.  He’s probably embarrassed that he kept saying the wrong name, I think.

“Um, anyway, he just came in here recently wanting to assist me, which is SUPER weird, because he has a degree, in like, engineering!   Is he going through some sort of mid-life crisis or something?”  Doctor Spot speaks frantically, not leaving any gap for me to speak,“I don’t know, but let me tell you something:  In all my time working on the Catnip, I have never once seen a Scottish Fold.  Sure, I’ve heard of them and American Curls, but I hadn’t ever seen one—in all my life, actually.  And now four?  Suddenly?  All at the same time—something’s fishy, Captain, something’s reeking fishiness.  And then I put something together, which isn’t all that often unless it’s important.  Like inventing the wet food/dry cat food mix.  Half of the package is wet food.  And half of it is dry food.  And they’re kept in separate little containers so it all doesn’t get moist, but its sold together.  Genius!  Maybe being a captain and having to think on my paws is rubbing off on me?

“You said their were five Scottish Folds.  I only heard of four,” I inquire.  Doctor Spot’s eyes widen.

“Actually, I said that their were four Scottish Folds, and I only mentioned three, but the last one is…,” Doctor Spot gestured for me to follow him.  I did, and he navigated the murmuring crowd to a sickbed.  There was a mummy lying on it.  “The last one is… her.  I don’t even know her name, but I know for sure that she’s a Scottish Fold, despite her major damage to skin tissue.”  I grimace, gawking at the fact that this mummy is still alive.  She was, wasn’t she?  “Radiation burns,” Doctor Spot fills in for me.  And then it hits me.  I’m on a roll!

“In three minutes we will be close enough for video communication,” Subcommander Ocee says promptly, although it was obvious that the apprehension was getting to her, too.  Captain Shtankadoodle and one other had fallen victim to what crew had nicknamed, the “Catnip Tornado.”  All corridors were currently experiencing a whirl-wind like state, due to a mistake which ended up boosting power to the fans instead of the air-conditioning.  And now the engineers couldn't fix the problem because they were being blown away from it.

It wasn’t safe for anybody to be traversing the corridors anymore, which was why Subcommander Ocee still couldn’t get why the “one other” claimed by the Catnip Tornado had willfully walked into the corridor.  It was the last Subcommander Ocee had seen of her.  And still no report back, unlike Captain Shtankadoodle, who was currently huddling in with a growing number of felines in the Medical Hub.  Subcommander Ocee shook her head to herself, shivering despite the heat.  She glanced at Ensign Ricketts’s seat.  At least the cacti are growing fine, Subcommander Ocee grimaced to herself, observing Ensign Ricketts’s chair, where Ensign Ricketta had planted five Rebutia cacti.  That dumb decision was what contributed to Ensign Ricketta having to stand during her shift.  And also why Ensign Ricketta wanted to shake the stiffness in her legs from standing so long by going on a walk.  Subcommander Ocee replayed the scene in her mind, shaking her head to herself.  She was usually so quick!  Why hadn’t she corrected Ensign Ricketta when she said it?  Why not?!

“I need a break, Subcommander, my legs are getting stiff and need a good stretch.  I hear there’s a tornado of catnip somewhere,” Subcommander Ocee recalled Ensign Ricketts’s squeaky laugh, “It’s probably some sort of dish that chef whipped up.  Yum!  I’m starved and catnip is like my favorite seasoning.  Typical, right?  Anyway, see ya’.”

“No!” Subcommander Ocee wanted to drop everything and shout, as if she could go back to that time.  “It’s not a tornado of Catnip!  It’s called the ‘Catnip Tornado’ because we’re on board the ship, Catnip!  Like the ‘Mayflower Tornado’?  Don’t you understand?!”  Subcommander Ocee couldn’t believe she was about to break into tears…  but she was my responsibility, and now she’s gone!  The stories I’ve heard of how violent the Catnip Tornado is…  Why, Captain Shtankadoodle’s story himself!  What will I ever do?!  Subcommander Ocee felt like bawling.  But not on the bridge.  To show she has emotions?  In front of the crew?  While she was on duty?  Unthinkable!

A scratchety-scratchety noise awakens from her thoughts.  Subcommander Ocee stifled a gasp.  She was apalled at herself!  Here she was, getting carried away, with important business to be attending to--why, the lives of all the   Who could it be? Is it the Solera Station contacting us already?  Subcommander Ocee glanced at the digital clock.  If so, why wouldn't they be contacting us with video capability?  We're five minutes past the threshhold of supporting video?  There it was again.  Wait!  Subcommander Ocee recognized that meow that just impelled images of a mangey, stinky, bur-ry cat to come to mind.  Was it?  Could it?  Subcommander Ocee took a deep breath and tapped the voice communicator on the wall with her paw.

"Captain?  Is that you?" Subcommander Ocee asked hesitantly.  She hadn't heard much from Captain Shtankadoodle after hearing that he was 'okay' from some randome crewmember, and another random crewmember that she didn't recognize telling her of his daunting story, climbing through air ducts, rescuing colonist kittens, and great-great-great-great grandkitties, scrambling through private quarters, and drawing dangerously near the big, giant, sharp fatal fan blades themselves, once.  He didn't even once yowl when the wind flew the fur right off him!  Subcommander Ocee regretted her often thinking that Captain Shtankadoodle was a lazy buffoon.  No, Subcommander Ocee thought stubbornly to herself, he's a lazy surviver, and a semi-valuable member of this crew!  Sure, he might sink into his cat bed in his office like a stone, but he's also semi-precious like a stone, too!  In any case, it felt good for Subcommander Ocee to hear his voice ring through the radio.  She had felt so isolated up here on the bridge with just the same few crewmembers, and if anybody new anything about ocicats, it was that they liked attention.  LOTS of it.

"Subcommander Ocee, I have something really important to talk to you about.  So important it perhaps shoudln't be discussed over the ship's radio--but seeing that we have no other opportunity to talk," Subcommander Ocee heard Captain Shtankadoodle sigh into the microphone.  What could 'really important' mean to Captain Shtankadoodle?  Doctor Spot had jsut found a healthy but equally tasty alternative to Kings Buffet?  Yeah, right, Subcommander Ocee scoffed to herself.  If there was one thing Captain Shtankadoodle didn't care about, his health was right up at the top.  "I-I, Doctor Spot and I know who used the Repulser Ray to send the comet hurtling towards the space station," Subcommander Ocee was tempted to ask if she was really talking to her captain.  Since when did Captain Shtankadoodle make this much sense?  "Um, I wasn't exactly aware of it, but Doctor Spot checked in a patient with severe radiation burns-,"  Subcommander Ocee gasped.

"Oooh...,"  She said quietly. 

"Yeah.  'Oooh...,'  She isn't exactly conscious, but the moment she lucid enough to answer questions, I'll be there!  Oh, And one more thing,"  Subcommander Ocee braced herself.  Good news?  Bad news?  Subcommander Ocee hoped that Captain Shtankadoodle had devised a way to save the Solera Station, already.  Right now the plan was to evacuate all the colonists already at the Solera Station onto the Catnip, but that would leave the Catnip dead in the water--er, dead in space--for operating anything more than basic thrusters to keep up with the demand of energy for life support, the regenerator, and, Subcommander Ocee gave a sad glance to her new favorite toy: The degenerator.

"Yes?"  Subcommander Ocee tried not to sound dejected.

"Did you know that Doctor Spot found a healthy alternative to King's Buffet?  Yeah, Emporer's Smorgasboard or something.  I have to admit, they got the 'board', part right.  Emporer's Smorgasboard tastes like cardboard flakes, so I'm stickin' loyal with King's Buffet,"  Subcommander Ocee smirked at her captain.  Then something occurred to her.

"You've had cardboard flakes?" Subcommander Ocee shouldn't have sounded surprised.

"You'd be surprised by what I've eaten.  Anyway, Doctor Spot and I happen to have a certain development that's been locked in the restroom for awfully long time.  Got to go.  Shtankadoodle."

"Development?"  But Captain Shtankadoodle had already left the communications system.


"One," Never have I felt so alive!  Now that I was off that energy-zapping King's Buffet, I felt like I could actually do something!  And the bruises I had gotten from being flung around the ship by a crazy fan had actually clotted!  I felt so engergetic!  "Two,"  I brace myself.  "Three!"  The make shift battering ram of an empty medical bed jerked foward, and so did I.  The "battering ram," barely nudged the restroom door that Klein wasn't coming out of.  Doctor Spot suspected Klein didn't have any intention of leaving any time soon, either.

"What gives?!" Doctor Spot nearly hollered at me.  Even though I'm the captain, I feel like shrinking away into my huge ball of fur.

"I kind of thought that we were going to go after we reached the uh, count of three," I explain myself, with a nervous twitch of my ear.  Doctor Spot didn't look impressed.  Wait!  What about my captain-y voice I put on earlier?  I ask myself.  The way I see this going, is either making myself look like a huge buffoon--which I already look like in the eyes of most my crew.  A lovable, huggable buffoon.  Or, I could seem really superior and captain-like.  It was worth a shot.

"I," I pause dramatically,"thought we were going to go," I shake my tail,"On three."  Doctor Spot looks astonished, and I'm not certain if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

"Why, of course captain, let's all go after three," Doctor Spot ordered the random ensigns that were assisting us.  And by random, I mean random.  Had they just emerged from the broom closet or something when we needed them?  If my eyes didn't fail me...  Anyway.  Weird.

"One.  Two.  Three.  GO!"  We slam the medical bed into the door, eager to break it down, excitement coarsing through us.  Boy-oy-YOY-ya-yoing!  What?!  I watch the scene taking shape before me--one random crew member flying backwards as a loose metal bar socks him in the face.  The front of the cart crumpling into a big 'S' shape--how does that even happen on direct collision?!  The wheels darting out from beneath the bed.  The sheet ominously being thrown towards the faces of the felines in the back.  (Acka, no, a.k.a.  Doctor Spot and I)  Me yowling as try to avoid it.  What can I say?  I don't like being cornered.  Well, I didn't actually watch that part.  Little nuts and bolts and instruction manuals and shrapnel exploding backwards on us.  Springs popping up and taunting us with little springish dances.  A mattress following the coarse of the blankets the preceded it.  What kind of medical bed was this, anyway?  Oh, and the pillow taking flight and landing on the face of some fellow in the crowd that had gathered to watch us.  At least that was the easy blow, I admit to myself.  I thought to soon as the fellow in the back was knocked out cold.  What kind of pillow was that?!  And then I feel an urge to check--just check something real quick.  I clamber out from underneath blankets as I reach to check the instruction manual that had landed in Doctor Spot's lap.  As I suspected, I admit solemnly to myself, made in Lactolia.  

Good news is, so was the door.  It crumpled like a paper doll.  Doctor Spot diligently checked on his unknown-name patient, who was a-okay, and then beat me into the not-so-roomy medical bathroom.  It was empty.

"This day.  Is full of surprises," A say, dumbfounded, to myself.  One of the ensigns grabs my arm.

"Look up!  The hatch is missing!"  One of the crewmembers gawks.  A murmur errupts between the ensigns.

"Maybe there's some sort of distortion or something in this room.  Things just go missing in here," One begins nervously.

"I'm not going in here anymore." Another chimes in.

"Nuh-uh, me neither,"  The murmur grows louder, and I can't believe my ears.  How foolish were my ensigns?  Was there any kind of IQ test on the Star Convoy personnel?  Whatsoever?!  I seperate myself from the uneducated ensigns that make up my crew.  As soon as I step away, the murmur quiets.  And then it's gone.  Like it never happened.  I find it hard to resist asking if anybody noticed anything.

"Was it just me or did my group of hired paws just vanish?"  The feline refugees in Doctor Spot's sickbay look blankly at each other.

"What are you talking about?"  One asks me.  I don't bother explaining as I search the room for any evidence that five random ensigns had jsut been helping me and Doctor Spot with the battering ram.  And then I hear the closet door click shut.  Oh, I'm onto them now, I grin to myself, grabbing at the handle designed for cat paws into the closet.

"Captain Shtankadoodle!" I hear a holler.  With a huff I answer Doctor Spot's beckon.  Perhaps the mystery of the expendable closet-dwelling ensigns will never be known...  I find myself looking directly into Doctor Spot's serious eyes.

"Feel this."  Doctor Spot bites my arm lightly and drags it up to the roof where the hatch is missing.  I didn't feel anything.  Doctor Spot lets go of my paw.  "Exactly.  No air movement."  Doctor Spot keeps a fixed gaze on me, "Its as we thought.  This is an inside job.  I don't think our air-conditioning repair crew is as baffled as it seems.  This is all making since now.  Those Scottish Folds are working together, and they extracted Klein from his duty both eavesdropping on me and keeping close to the well-being of his sister.  They selectively chose this vent--and perhaps several others for navigation of the ship.  That means that they have free reign of the ship, where as the workers are confined to specific areas.  Captain, they're rigging the air-vents to their will!  And their making certain we stay in here!"  Sounding plently detective-like, Doctor Spot finished,  "Now we only have to figure out why--and catch them before they get away with it."

"Do you mind repeating that?"


 "Alright," A deep voice stereotypical for a bad guy begins,"I've had enough of this listening to Klein's ideas," Burly says with disgust, quite obviously the largest of the small group of rag-tag Scottish Folds.

"We're getting Felina out of there before she starts to speak.  I don't care what condition she's in.  It isn't only her life at stake, guys," Burly looks long and hard at his rival little brother and Klein, who keeps uncomofortably silent.  "It's our money.  And now we know that their on to us--we heard over the ship's speakers!  And dumb Klein had to get them suspicious by working in the Medical Hub!  Stupid, stupid...,"  Burly muttered distastefully, "Klein?  Klein?  Klein?!"

"Um?  Huh?"  Klein shakes out of his thoughts.

"Did you hear me?  Don't make me repeat myself."

"Uh...yeah, I think so," Klein decided was the best answer.  Hadn't his brother said something about money?  Probably, Klein thought, not surprised.

"Good.  We all in?"


"Um...,"  Klein looked down, and suddenly, hiding in the airshaft with his money-crazed brothers, he was certain of one thing: Just because he had been stupid to rejoin his riled-up siblings didn't mean he'd have to stay with them.  He was certain taht he was going to do the right thing.  Even if that cost him his dream.

To be continued in: The Sun Colony, Part 4

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Oct 4, 2020
Category: Star Cats
Posted by: weedles

A hospital bed.  Wha…?  Why? Again?  Nugget’s bleary yellow eyes struggled to adjust to the brightness of the cold, concrete room he was being kept in.  A long row of hospital beds lined the endless, grimy wall, but his eyes were too unfocused to see them.  Instead, it was the smell of weak alcohol cleaner that told him exactly where he was. Nugget tried to push himself up onto his legs, but a sharp, stabbing feeling rent his stomach.

Jul 3, 2019
Category: Star Cats
Posted by: weedles

Button’s paws pressed against the iron door, supporting her as she stood up on her two hind legs and tried to peer down the long, narrow row of identical white cells.  The only thing different about each individual cell were the foul creatures that inhabited them, and really, Button thought, even they didn’t seem to vary much in size or demeanor.

Jul 6, 2018
Category: Star Cats
Posted by: weedles

Yet another addition to, "The Sun Always Shines On Lactolia."

May 15, 2018
Category: Star Cats
Posted by: weedles

Another addition to, "The Sun Always Shines In Lactolia."

Like usual, its so long that its painful! (But you know you can't resist reading it, anyway.)

Mar 6, 2018
Category: Star Cats
Posted by: weedles

Another addition to, "The Sun Always Shines In Lactolia."

Dec 16, 2017
Category: Star Cats
Posted by: weedles

An addition to, "The Sun Always Shines In Lactolia."

Nov 10, 2017
Category: Star Cats
Posted by: weedles

A spin off the of the much-loved "Star Cats" series.

Jun 2, 2017
Category: Star Cats
Posted by: weedles

The behind-wiggling sequel to 'The Big Dent' Part 1.

Nov 19, 2016
Category: Star Cats
Posted by: weedles
With Captain Shtankadoodle's prized vessel now all-but-destroyed in a brutal comet collision, the crew (Shtankadoodle included) isn't certain what to expect on their return to earth!  Find out in: The Big Dent, Part I
Oct 1, 2016
Category: Star Cats
Posted by: weedles

As if the threat of a comet bound for the Solera Station didn’t seem looming enough, with the entire ship induced into a nervous, whispered panic, Subcommander Ocee could only keep from biting her claws and resisting the impulse to shrink away into a tight cranny—a box, a nook in the insulation, a raccoon trap—anything would do, really, to get away from this news:  Lieutenant Lucky had just confirmed that the comet everybody was worried about was only seventeen minutes from impact.