metal, decaying rubber, decaying hemp, live rats, dead rats, and invading humans, some still alive, some protein. Seeing in strange greens and silvers, much clearer than my own vision, less orange. Hearing metal settling, electronics buzzing, human invaders running, voices in the background. Feeling sun-heated metal beneath paws, dirt and stone beneath bellies.
Two cats were near the back airlock, standing guard over two others that were badly injured. Two more were dead, ripped apart by Puffers, left to grow stiff and stinking of death. There were no humans back there. Tuffs bumped me harder. I knew what she wanted. Somehow. I knew.
Punching my connection to the office, I said, “Jagger. Open the rear airlock and pull in the two cats. Put them in the med-bay. Set it to ‘triage’ so it can diagnose and treat them both.”
“I happen to approve, but you’re low on medical supplies,” he said.
Yeah. Supplies that were hard to replace these days. But they were my cats. Bloody damn hell.
Tuffs put her nose to mine again. I saw through the watching cats’ eyes as the injured ones were lifted and carried inside, one cat in each of Jagger’s arms. As the door was closing, both of the watcher cats leaped in, tails pulled in tight to keep from getting caught in the closing seal. My vision went with them, flying in the air. One leaped across Jagger, paws pushing off from his back. Jagger cursed. I breathed out a huff of amusement.
In a swirling, shifting, visual transfer, I was staring at the invading team, four of them gone down into the crack, the remaining two leaning against a skid of chrome bumpers, vaping something noxious. The view shifted again, and I was smelling and tasting the raw meat a half dozen cats were feasting on at the front airlock. Bearded Guy and the woman who died first were both a hit with the felines. No need to waste protein, I thought. Though they were not eating their own compatriots who were growing stiff with rigor, so some protein was more respected than other protein.
Tuffs thought a concept at me that translated vaguely as we do not eat our people.
Which meant cats were “people” to her, but humans were not. Okay.
Another concept translated as ambush invaders in crack. And then I tasted my blood and realized Tuffs was lapping up the blood that had pooled across my legs and I was tasting it in her mouth.
Guess that means I’m not her people. Tuffs didn’t disagree. The blood, filled with fresh bio-mech-nanos meant that Tuffs and I were more firmly bonded and merged than when she had lived with me after I healed her in the med-bay. Back then she had slept in my bed. We had touched. Too much. Back before I knew much about what I had become and that I could infect anything with a blood supply.
“Stop drinking my blood,” I told her, trying to push her away with my free hand. She dodged my hand, ignoring me. “You’re going to be more bonded to me.” She ignored me some more. Damn cat.
Tuffs lifted her head and looked at the next screen, making the “Meep,” sound again. Odd with my blood on her lips.
“Jolene,” I said. “Human invaders are attempting to access the portions of your ship that are down in the crack. Did CO Mateo leave protocols intact to protect weapons arrays and AI backup?”
“Affirmative,” she snapped sounding less AI and more severely irritated human. “If you want to rescind your order to only answer with minimal info, we can chat about that.”
More human.
I thought about all the parts of the SunStar I had touched when I came inside that very first time. My sweat on the controls. My breath circulating through the ship systems. When I survived the Mama-Bot, my bio-nanos had converted mech-nanos to their own purposes inside me. And those mixed-nanos were . . . everywhere. Inside the SunStar.
Bloo-dy hell. What had I done? No wonder Jolene sounded so different. And now? My blood in the sleeve would make it much worse.
“Consider the order rescinded and my apologies offered,” I said, hearing the sadness in my tone through Tuff’s ears. “Is there something like auto defenses that will take care of the invaders?”
“Affirmative. Would you like me to twist their tails for info first or just shoot ’em dead?”
They were MS Angels. My enemies. And they had killed Harlan.
“I’d like to keep one on the surface alive, if we can make