Empire of the Space Cats (Amy Armstrong Book 2) Read online

  “I’m guessing one of those is ‘Navigation.’”

  “Spot on. The others are ‘Power’ and ‘Engines.’”

  Amy shrugged. “It’s not that hard. Pretty close to real French.”

  “Close only counts when you’re talking about plasma grenades,” said Sunflower. “Cat French is a dead language with grammar that’s as clear as something from Betsy’s rear end.”

  Amy planted her bare feet on the wall and twisted around to look at her companions floating in the center of the junction.

  “Here’s the plan––Philip and Sunflower will go with me down the long corridor. We’ll try to get the power and the gravity back online.”

  “If that’s even possible,” sniffed Sunflower.

  “Betsy will go with Nick and Nistra––”

  “Officer First Class Nistra!”

  Amy stared at the sauro. “Betsy will go with Nick and Nistra to the right. The Lady was supposed to have stocked this ship with food and water. It would be nice to check on those supplies, or at least figure out how long before we have to drink our own pee.”

  “Awesome!” barked Betsy, his legs churning in the zero gravity.

  “This is unbearable,” said Nistra. “I’m not taking orders from a dog!”

  Amy crossed her arms. “Betsy is a highly-trained, trans-dimensional operative with implants dedicated to communication, combat, and information, and has titanium-strengthened bones. He can pilot an attack bomber, doesn’t have to sleep, and can remember every single thing you’ve ever said to him. The Lady picked him from millions of candidates to work for her, and you think he’s not qualified to float in front of you down a dark corridor? Think about the fact that he doesn’t have to sleep before you say another word.”

  The sauro gulped and smiled thinly, his sharp teeth barely visible.

  “Well … as long as we’re, um, going the same direction, I, uh, will probably do what he says. Definitely! Not probably.”

  “Skippy-dippy, green guy!” said Betsy. “Grab my butt and push. I’m starving.”

  Nistra shoved the terrier through the corridor, and the tiny sprite Nick buzzed after the pair. All three turned left at the junction.

  “The other way!” yelled Philip. “To the right!”

  A few seconds later, the trio floated past the junction.

  “He only got picked by the Lady because of his dad,” said Sunflower. “You know that, right?”

  “I was trying to scare Nistra,” said Amy. “And keep him out of trouble. I just hope they don’t eat everything in sight, because I could literally inhale a granola bar right now.”

  “I think they’ll open an airlock and get sucked into space,” murmured Sunflower. “But that’s life, or as we say in Cat French––‘se lavi.’”

  “You never say that.”

  “What’s a granola?” Philip asked.

  “It’s basically oatmeal.”

  Philip frowned. “Horrid stuff.”

  Amy punched him lightly on the arm. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

  “I’m sorry––what does that mean?”

  “Don’t be scared of trying something new.”

  “I’ve definitely tried oatmeal. It’s a substance of which I’ve had quite enough for several lifetimes, thank you very much.”

  Amy let go of the wall, staring at Philip as she slowly spun upside down in the weightless environment.

  “Something wrong, Phil? You keep pulling at your pants.”

  “Trousers!”

  “Right.”

  Philip turned red. “My apologies. It’s simply that these garments are so awfully tight. I feel like an elephant squeezed into a sausage skin.”

  “I’m used to it. My foster mom always made me dress in a leotard and tights and work out with her. I guess you don’t have Richard Simmons and ‘Sweatin’ To The Oldies’ in jolly old England.”

  “Since I’ve never heard of those two things, you’re probably right.”

  Sunflower shouted from a distance, his voice echoing on the corridor walls.

  “Are you two lovebirds done making kissy faces or should I call the love police?”

  “I’m going to kill that cat,” growled Amy.

  She rotated to face the wall, crouched, and rocketed down the corridor toward the orange tabby, arms straight at her sides.

  “Call an ambulance,” she yelled. “And a hearse—you’ll need both!”

  Sunflower floated above a black hatch circled in tiny red lights, mouth open and yellow eyes wide as he watched Amy somersault and land with a thud on the sticky black surface.

  “That was good,” he said. “Are you sure you haven’t been in space before?”

  “I took gymnastics for six years.”

  “In space?”

  “Of course not!”

  “Also, what’s an ambulance?”

  A strand of blonde hair floated past her face and Amy stuffed it inside her cap.

  “An ambulance takes cats to the hospital who talk too much and get beaten to death by angry girls.”

  Sunflower nodded. “A meat wagon.”

  Philip stopped clumsily next to the cat, bumping his side and leg against the black hatch.

  “A hearse transports the dead to their final resting place,” said the teenager.

  Sunflower shrugged. “Still a meat wagon.”

  The cat touched the center of the hatch. The red lights changed to blue, and the five-foot black circle spiraled open to reveal another section of gray corridor lined with glowing rings and scribbled handwriting in black marker.

  Sunflower floated through. Amy grabbed the edge of the door and pulled herself after the cat.

  “This is a very strange vessel,” said Philip, from behind. “I’ve seen absolutely no writing or placards of any kind.”

  “Scribbles in Cat French,” said Amy. “There, there, and there.”

  “I mean the original signs. The writing from Katmando.”

  “Who knows?” said Sunflower. “Maybe college kids pulled them off the walls for souvenirs.”

  The two humans and orange tabby glided through the darkened corridors of the ship, passing through multiple hatches and turning and backtracking, always following the direction of scrawled arrows to “Chanm Pouvwa.”

  Sunflower pointed at a dark gray hatch as he floated by.

  “There’s the toilet, if anyone needs to go.”

  Philip squinted at the writing. “‘Chanm Vwayaj Dimansyon? It’s the transmat room, not a toilet.”

  “Right,” said Sunflower. “I, uh, read it wrong.”

  “That’s how I can get back to Earth,” said Amy. “The transmat room!”

  Sunflower floated past the hatch. “Not without power, you won’t.”

  Amy grabbed the sticky wall and stopped. “Wait! What’s that sound?”

  The other two grabbed onto the surface of the walls and froze. A sound like a faint sigh rolled through the corridor, and a breeze stirred the hair on the back of Amy’s neck.

  “Not to shock your tiny monkey brains or anything,” said Sunflower. “But it’s the ventilation system.”

  “Sounds like breathing,” said Amy.

  Sunflower rolled his eyes. “That’s what ventilation is!”

  “But it sounds real, like the ship is alive.”

  Philip nodded. “The Lady did mention something along that line.”

  “Superstition and old cat’s tales,” said Sunflower, laughing nervously. “What does alive even mean?”

  Amy poked Sunflower’s furry chest. “Not dead?”

  “Ha ha. You monkeys are smarter than you look.”

  The small group continued further into the ship, and Amy was more acutely aware of faint wheezes and sighs from the “ventilation.”

  Philip pointed to another corridor as they passed. “That one says ‘Navigasyon.’ Could we find out where we are?”

  “Power first,” said Sunflower. “Nothing works without it.”

  The v
entilation sounds grew slightly louder as they followed twisting corridors deeper into the ship and further aft.

  “Can we stop for a second? I’m feeling dizzy,” said Amy.

  Philip held her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know … I just …”

  Amy touched the curved wall of the corridor to steady herself and felt a tiny electric shock.

  “Ow!”

  Her hand left a gleaming mark on the wall that quickly grew into an irregular splotch of white, like an overturned can of paint. The bright stain grew a meter wide and then shrank into tiny ovals, disappearing as quickly as it had come.

  Amy stared at her hand. “That was weird.”

  “It doesn’t change for me,” said Philip, pushing against the wall.

  Amy touched the bottom of her bare foot to the gray material. She yelped at the same electric shock, and watched the wall around her foot gleam with light.

  Sunflower floated up to them. “Are you two playing around again?”

  “Look,” said Amy.

  “Whoopee,” said the cat. “Let’s hope that’s a good thing, and not an allergy. Could be nasty.”

  “How could I be allergic to the walls?”

  “Turn that question around and you might be getting somewhere. Next you’ll be asking why the air smells like raspberries.”

  Amy shrugged. “Space perfume for space girls?”

  “Space girls? More like, space monkeys. I’m no expert on this old museum piece, but I think it’s a chemical applied to the walls or the air to keep the ship from rejecting us.”

  “Poppycock!” said Philip. “A ship that’s alive is one thing; a dyspeptic one is another.”

  Sunflower blinked at the teenager. “Tell me about poppycock the next time you find yourself in an airlock full of flashing red lights and alarm bells and all you have in your hot little hands is half a bottle of raspberry lotion.”

  “Did that happen to you?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Turn that frown upside down,” said Amy. “There aren’t any airlocks around here.”

  She followed the cat as he glided into a spacious junction of two corridors, lit by dim radial lights. Next to a silver, rectangular door was an arrow and the handwritten phrase “Chanm Pouvwa.”

  Sunflower swiped his furry paw across the door, and it whooshed up and away.

  “Welcome to the power room,” he said.

  A light flickered, illuminating a closet with a metal toilet, a tiny sink with a spray nozzle, and a patch of neon-green artificial grass.

  Amy stuck her head inside. “Does the ship run on poop? Wait––I don’t want to know.”

  “It’s a WC,” said Philip. “A lavatory. But why the grass? Who would need that to … um, complete their business?”

  Sunflower pushed them back and closed the door. “Nothing to see here! Don’t ask questions about things you shouldn’t be asking questions about.”

  The cat pushed off the wall and floated down the corridor to a large silver hatch.

  “THIS is the power room.”

  “Pouvwa” had been scrawled in large block letters in several places on the wall around the hatch, with many black arrows pointing directly at it.

  “Probably right this time,” said Amy.

  “Someone could cause a first-rate cock-up around here with a rag and a bit of turpentine,” said Philip.

  Amy nodded. “Yeah, Sunflower––why didn’t the Lady put up real signs?”

  “You know how it is,” said the cat. “Nobody wants to do chores after a day of robbing dimensions and rocketing across the galaxy.”

  The door of the Power Room spiraled away to reveal a black, empty space.

  “What is this––a bigger toilet?” asked Amy.

  Sunflower floated inside. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  As the cat passed the threshold, the room throbbed to life. Bubbles in shades of green from neon to aquamarine formed on the glossy black floor and floated toward the ceiling, where they met an identical layer of bubbles floating down.

  Amy watched Sunflower glide untouched through the green swarm.

  “Wait!”

  A sphere the color of Japanese green tea spun next to Amy’s face. She slapped it away without thinking, but her fingers passed through the bubble.

  She stared at Philip. “Did you see that?”

  “Pardon?”

  “The bubble that almost smacked me in the face!”

  Philip raised an eyebrow. “I’m afraid I don’t see anything, Amy. Apart from Sunflower’s headlight, the room is completely dark.”

  “I’m either losing it or about to be covered in green bubble goop. With my luck they’re totally radioactive, and that’s going to do wonders for my hair.”

  Philip shook his head. “I’m sorry––goop? Radio–what?”

  Amy sighed and pulled on her stretchy space top. “Never mind. It was a joke.”

  Sunflower had glided to the center of the room and floated above a seamless dome made of the same glossy black material as the floor, ceiling, and walls. Surrounded by glowing bubbles, the cat hovered above the dome tapping and swiping at the surface. As Amy floated closer, she saw glowing lines of text below his paws.

  Sunflower glanced up at her. “The system recognizes me, and I don’t see any critical problems. I’ll try to wake the ship out of sleep mode.”

  “What’s with all the bubbles?”

  Sunflower slapped his paw at the squiggly mess of text like a pesky fly.

  “Bubbles … if you need to use the toilet, we passed one in the hallway. Shove your rear on the hole and go. It’s easy to use, even for a monkey.”

  “The green bubbles floating everywhere! Don’t you see them? It’s like that scene from Willy Wonka, only with radioactive snot!”

  Sunflower blinked for a moment, and then looked up at Amy. “Strange––it usually takes an hour to go space-crazy. Have you been punching buttons when I haven’t been looking? Did you switch on the T.H.E.?”

  “The what?” asked Amy. “Bubbles are coming from the walls, and you’re asking me if I did something?”

  Sunflower glanced around the room. “It’s not working for me. Oh, well. Maybe the system gets confused if you have more brain cells than a poona.”

  “You said it was called ‘thee’?”

  “Not ‘thee’––T.H.E.,” said the cat. “Tee Aitch Eee, Total Happiness Environment. That’s what one of Betsy’s friends said it was called. The ship reads your mind and projects what you want to see in every room. Saves a lot of money in decorating. Spend enough time in space and you’ll realize how important that is. Goes back to that ‘space-crazy’ thing I was talking about.”

  “How perfectly wizard!” said Philip. “That must be the reason the walls are so drab and gray around the ship.”

  “The ship can read my mind?” asked Amy. “Why would I think the power room of a spaceship would look like a toddler’s birthday party?”

  “Silly, isn’t it?” said the cat. “But that’s what your monkey subconscious thinks a power room should look like.” He squinted at Amy and spoke slowly. “Do you know big words like ‘sub-con-scious?’”

  Amy ground her teeth. “Of course. Do you want to see a cat fly out an airlock?”

  “No.”

  Amy floated above the orange cat and watched him scroll through glowing lines of data. She closed her eyes and began to daydream, her thoughts turning to home, to her foster mother, to the time they visited the fair last summer. She opened her eyes and yelped.

  Philip floated over to her. “What’s wrong?”

  Amy pointed at the walls. “Everything’s pink! We’re floating inside a giant tub of cotton candy! It’s flying everywhere.” She covered her face and tumbled through the weightless environment. “It’s in my hair!”

  Philip grabbed a fistful of red fabric at her waist. “Don’t worry, Amy. I’ve got you.”

  Sunflower used a back leg to scratch under his
cap, and watched the pair of teenagers bump into the ceiling and slowly drift down.

  “The ship won’t respond,” he said. “I can’t bring any of the systems up to full power.”

  Amy peeked out from between fingers covered in pink floss. “The Lady said she fixed it!”

  “I know. I was there too, remember? We’re still alive. While that seems less like a good thing and more like a fresh version of Hell the longer I spend with you monkeys, the fact that the Sauro fleet hasn’t blown us to bits means the new power sphere worked, at least for a short jump. One little fly in the fish tea, though––this ship hasn’t been used for at least thirty years, probably longer. Enjoy that sweet taste of oxygen in the air, because it’s not going to last forever. Understand what I’m saying? If this ship doesn’t wake up, we’re all going to the big litter box in the sky.”

  “Maybe she just hit the snooze button,” said Amy. “Does a living ship have an alarm clock?”

  “An interesting point. Honestly, I have no idea what you just said because I’ve stopped listening and I’m looking for the escape pod in the ship’s diagram.”

  “Let Amy try something,” said Philip. “She and the vessel seem to have a connection.”

  Sunflower shrugged. “Fine. Dance around the room and wiggle your hips for all I care.”

  In Amy’s mind the black control panel had changed into a ice-covered silver dome in a whirling tornado of pink sugar. As Amy stretched out her hands and touched the cold surface, a voice spoke in her head––an older woman’s voice with the deep tenor of warm milk and a pain that felt the same as biting into aluminum foil, only between Amy’s eyes.

  Sa ou vle?

  Amy rubbed the bridge of her nose. “What’s that sound? Who’s there?”

  “I don’t hear anything,” said Philip.

  “The ship is talking to her, or she’s space-crazy,” said Sunflower.

  Mwen domi. Ou ale.

  “I don’t speak Cat French,” said Amy. “I don’t know what you’re saying.”

  I’m tired. What do you want?

  “I’d like a cheeseburger and a strawberry milkshake, but if that’s too hard, then I guess you could take me back to the dimension where my friends and family live and I could buy a cheeseburger and a strawberry milkshake there. I’m Amy Armstrong from Planet Earth, year 1995, et cetera, et cetera.”