Note: This story was written as a space opera. Contrary to its name, the genre is not in any way musical. (I know, this is a letdown). It is best described as Sci-Fi lite, as explained by writer Brian Aldiss (xi): Science Fiction is a big muscular horny creature, with a mass of bristling antennae and proprioceptors on its skull. It has a small sister, a gentle creature with red lips and a dash of stardust in her hair. Her name is Space Opera...Science Fiction is for real. Space Opera is for fun. Generally.
What Space Opera does is take a few light years and a pinch of reality and inflate thoroughly with melodrama, dreams, and a seasoning of screwy ideas.
Space Opera isn’t dependent on technology or futuristic plot devices to tell the story. It could just as easily take place on an island as it could an alien planet. Bring it on, L. Ron Hubbard!UNTITLED FELINE SPACE OPERA
Kristina King
**
U.N. ADVISORY: THE SUPPLY OF DRINKING WATER IS DANGEROUSLY LOW. VERY LITTLE OF THE EARTH’S SOIL IS FERTILE. OFFICIALS RECOMMEND SECURING OFF-PLANET HOUSING. THERE WILL BE GOVERNMENT-SUBSIDIZED TRIPS TO MARS FOR RESDIENTS OF THE UNITED STATES, CANADA, GREAT BRITAIN AND THE NETHERLANDS. THE COST OF LIVING IN SPACE LINERS IS BECOMING MORE AFFORDABLE; THE U.N. RECOMMENDS CITIZENS CONSIDER THIS ALTERNATIVE TO SEEKING REFUGE ON MARS. WITHIN 6 MONTHS THE EARTH WILL NO LONGER BE ABLE TO SUPPORT HER POPULATION OF 10 BILLION PEOPLE.
“Is this the end of the world?” Jayne asked Carrie as the bulletin segued into a news story. “I remember when ‘off-world’ was a joke—something we saw in
Blade Runner and dreamt would happen by 2020. But here we are, year 2030, and not only are we about to live off-world, but we’re being encouraged to FLEE EARTH AND NEVER RETURN.”
“Don’t say that,” replied Carrie. “You’re going to worry Max.” She fingered the touchscreen on her handheld and changed the channel.
THE END IS NIGH! RAPTURE IS COMING! THE SOUTHSIDE BAPTIST CHURCH IS HERE FOR YOU! IF YOU NEED TO REPENT, BE BAPTIZED OR HAVE YOUR SOUL SAVED, JOIN US ON SUN------
With a bemused look on her face, Carrie muted the handheld. “I don’t think so. I am really not interested. It didn’t scare me at 13, and it’s not going to scare me now! Besides... we have our arrangements made. Mase and Kagan are boarding at the same port as us. With any luck, we’ll be roomed near each other on the liner. I talked to my sister—she and John have secured accommodations for themselves and Betty.”
“So what you’re trying to say is, this isn’t going to be that bad?”
“Jayne, it’s not the end of the world.”
“Except that it is. Aren’t we going to mourn, or something?”
“Well, given the past few years on this shithole, I’m inclined to say ‘No, not really.’ Our best friends are going to be with us on the liner. We have a pet permit. The only thing we’re losing is space to collect junk. And really, if we keep accumulating crap at this rate, our apartment would look like our view out the window—a landfill. I see this as a fairly positive action.”
“I know you’re right. I guess I’m just sad. As a kid I never thought about this happening. I made mud pies, and I thought every kid did that, and that every kid WOULD DO THAT. I know these liners are nice, but I don’t think they’re going to come complete with ditches, fallen leaves and filberts.”
“Jayne, why are you so damn poetic about everything? You going back to school was the worst thing ever. What happened to that hot girl who played hockey? Sometimes I really miss my jock who was just interested in booze, sex and living life. Not thinking about the past and feeling the burden of mankind’s mistakes. I wish you would just get over it. We don’t have any other options! It’s really happening. And it will be fine. Besides, we can join the 300 Million-Mile-High Club. Ha ha.”
“Ouch. Me evolving as a person is such a horrible thing, right? Fuuuck!” Jayne stammered as she slammed the door to the bedroom.
“Well, Max, sounds like someone is on the rag, huh? Haha. C’mere!”
For the record, Max is a terrible name. If I were allowed to choose my own name, it would be Septimus. Hell, if all cats were allowed to choose their own names, no “Tiger,” “Garfield,” “Fluffy,” or “Princess” would exist.
**
I awoke from what felt like a weeklong nap. I remember riding the bus to the veterinary clinic, sitting in the waiting room, seeing the vet, and being caressed for a moment before having a large needled shoved in my skin. No worries, though. It didn’t really hurt. Cats like to play this game. We aim to make the biggest deal out of things that aren’t really that bad. Baths? The vet? Immunizations? Dry food? None of that is a big deal... but it is so much fun to pretend it is! We’re natural actors. Plus, we appreciate the sympathy treats afterwards.
However, when I woke up that night, I wasn’t in my usual natty green cat bed. This place was more sterile, but it wasn’t the vet’s office. As I heard John explain it, it was a big ship barreling through space. On the hunt for a more precise explanation, I stalked the long halls with my ears perked. According to Captain Monroe, it is a C765X Space-Liner, and it houses 10,000 humans and many, many cats. From what I understand, space travel used to be a commodity, undertaken by rich guys and operated by Virgin. But now the common man, and cat, travel the great black void.
Looking out the windows, I determined that this black void was unlike any attic or basement I’d seen. It was endless and sprinkled with more than stars; there were planets and spiral-arm galaxies visible, but the scenery was incredibly repetitive. Although there were thousands of humans and cats on board, looking out the window, I felt lonely; our only neighbors were an occasional space-liner passing by.
**
I threw my paws out in front of me, remembering how good it feels to stretch after a nap. I twisted my body around and came face-to-face with Scruffles, the fugly Persian owned by Mase and Kagan. Of course, she isn’t known by Scruffles among cats... she calls herself Genevieve. What a joke!
Nevertheless, I playfully batted her fuzzy face. Finally, some cat contact!
Hi, Genny, it’s been a while; although, it’s hard to have a concept of time when you’ve been knocked out. Genny meowed in agreement, and flicked her tail, suggesting we explore. Having done little exploring and a lot of napping, I agreed and followed her as she snaked through the pet door.
Through the long familiar tunnel, I followed Genny. We were looking for nothing in particular, but changed our minds when we picked up the scent of many other cats. Noses to the ground, we followed a scent until we stopped before a nondescript metal door. Entering through the rubber flap, we came upon Heaven. Hardwood floors (great for sliding!), low chairs, cardboard boxes, scratching posts, tall chairs, and newspapers filled this room. In one corner we had self-dispensing food and water dishes—in bulk, I believe, in case those humans forgot about us. In another corner we had cordoned-off litter boxes. Are you joking? Privacy? This is awesome! Sometimes our humans can really follow through. I suppose we don’t really show our appreciation enough, though. If we did, maybe dogs wouldn’t be called Man’s Best Friend. But do we care? No. Cats have always preferred the self-sufficient reputation.
I surveyed the room and took in what would be our home for a couple years. There was a massive sisal rug in the middle of the room, and there were eight other cats in all manners of rest: some in a fetal position, some lying flat on their backs, others still contorted like circus freaks. I walked over to Betty, pawing at her tail.
Betty, it’s nice to see you haven’t lost any weight. This move to space obviously hasn’t stressed you out. It’s ok, though. I’m digging the place too.**
My bed, as it turns out, is like every other pet bed on this ship. Betty, Genny and I see the same things; the only differences we have are our owners. In that respect, our new home is nothing like Earth!
More about our ship: it possesses thousands of windows, through which we can watch space junk float by, and of course, the other space-liners, which are stuffed full like pimento olives. I think about the lives of cats on board these other ships. Do they have tasty food and a sisal rug? How about cat doors affording them maximum playtime? Could my life get better?
No, Genny, I really don’t think this move to a space-liner was bad. It’s not like we’ll make home on another planet. This is it—this is life. Relaxing, playing, sleeping, eating; nothing too strenuous. Sure, I miss chasing the occasional bird, but I make up for it by having more social time with my fellow felines. Genny and Betty are solo cats, too, so they must know what I mean. But we have our humans and we have companions, so life truly is good.
The argument I most often hear my humans engage in is the quality-of-life. Carrie thinks everything about the ship is fine-and-dandy. They have creature comforts—and each other—so what more could they need? Jayne, on the other hand, just can’t shake this feeling of grief. She’s really missing Earth, and all of its landfills, bullet trains and rabid dogs. Really, though, what’s there to miss?
**
Day 650 on C765X, and all the inhabitants are settled into routine. The humans work aboard the ship much like they did on Earth, and the cats laze aboard... much like we did on Earth. Speaking of which, we have visited the place once in the past two years. We made a touchdown to pick up more passengers—replace the ones that had died or something. While there, we were allowed to walk around and visit the ol’ rock. Not much changed—it was just crappier and emptier. Dustier and darker. I can’t say I missed the place.
**
APPROACHING PLANET LUNIK. DO NOT LEAVE CRAFT WITHOUT EXPRESS PERMISSION FROM CREW. DO NOT ATTEMPT COMMUNICATION WITH LIFE FORMS ON PLANET LUNIK. AT THIS POINT IT IS UNKNOWN IF THE PLANET IS FRIENDLY. REPEAT: APPROACHING PLANET LUNIK. DO NOT LEAVE CRAFT WITHOUT EXPRESS PERMISSION FROM CREW...
Do they have cats on this planet? I could certainly stand to see some new faces. Seriously, seeing Genny, Betty and Paco daily can really grate on one’s nerves. The novelty of living on a ship has certainly worn off. Then again, the novelty of living on Earth wore off... so maybe, it’s just the novelty of
living that has worn off? Time to stop before I get all existential. We’ve just received word that the planet Lunik appears void of any life forms as intelligent as humans.
“I don’t like the idea of this. Just because there aren’t any human-like creatures, it’s assumed safe?” Jayne cried. “What if there is some super-intelligent plant or animal life?”
“What, like a genius ficus?” Carrie retorted. “Relax. This is an adventure! When we were being cleared off of Earth, we had no idea we’d see AN UNKNOWN PLANET. It was supposed to be your standard flying-through-space kind of deal.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Jayne said. “At least we’re in this together, anyway.”
Wow... humans can be so sentimental. They could be starving or dying, but ultimately fulfilled as long as they aren’t alone. Geesh.
THE CRAFT WILL REMAIN ON PLANET LUNIK FOR 48 HOURS WHILE NECESSARY REPAIRS ARE MADE. SECTOR A MAY DISEMBARK AT 1100 HOURS. SECTOR B, 1130. SECTOR C, 1200 HOURS. SECTOR D AND E, 1230. FINALLY, SECTOR F AND G MAY DISEMBARK AT 1300 HOURS.
“All right! Just one hour and we can get a breath of this Martian air!” Jayne said.
“You know, this isn’t Mars, so it’s not really Martian air. According to the message sent out by Captain Monroe, this atmosphere is nearly identical to Earth’s, so we shouldn’t even notice a change from the cabin to outside. This will be a completely routine visit, except the air is Lunikan. We can even let the cats roam around, with no problems,” Jensen said while reading his handheld.
“Thanks for the info, jackass,” Carrie replied. “We didn’t ask.”
“Well, he is right, though. I shouldn’t worry. If this planet is anything like Earth used to be, this visit will be nice. Nostalgic,” said Jayne.
**
All the scientific analysis and Jensen’s blather didn’t prepare us for Planet Lunik. The ship’s equipment specified the atmosphere was safe for humans to breathe in. That there was even water safe enough to drink. The state-of-the-art labs of the C765X Space-Liner confirmed there were no harmful foreign bacteria.
It sounded perfectly safe. It looked perfectly safe. Even walking on the soil... it was absolutely normal. Like walking on the old Earth, before the soil became dry and crunchy.
But you see, all the testing confirmed to the crew was that nothing on Lunik could affect humans. But they forgot an important demographic: felines.
We weren’t hurt. None of us died or got sick. But what happened on that Earth-like planet certainly affected our current and future relationships with humans.
**
I followed Genny outside of the ship, rubbing my flank against Carrie’s, then Jayne’s, legs. Kind of a “see ya soon,” gesture. That was the last time I displayed a sign of affection toward my owners.
**
Genny and I headed towards a wooded area for a fiesta. I watched Jensen’s tom Spunky get too close to Paco. Poor Paco... that cat sure is pretty—and an uninterested neutered male. But that Spunky’s got a horrible name, and a creepy owner, so you can’t really fault him for trying. Paco screeched and swatted at him futilely, looking at Genny and I.
Seriously, get this cat away from me! he pleaded. Being bigger and more intimidating, we made our way over to Spunky and had a few words. No need for an altercation, though; we treat Spunky like he’s a kitten—well, like a kitten who fell out of a tree, and for the rest of his life thinks he’s a squirrel.
We gathered around a watering hole, waiting for the rest of our feline companions. It was time for some good old-fashioned hunting, something that we hadn’t done for years.
We’d been fed exceptionally well on the liner; even if our meals were a meat-substitute, they tasted like flesh. But where is the fun in that? All cats retain a hunting instinct, no matter how domesticated they are! And here we were, on a foreign planet with nearly two days of free time. Hunting felt like the right thing to do.
Ginger, Betty and Paco met up with Genny and I, and we slunk under some low, leafy bushes. Part of the fun of the hunt is being sneaky—we’re sneaking away from our friends and sneaking towards our prey. With a group of five, you leave little chance for subtlety, but retain quite an opportunity for an ambush. That’s what we were hoping, anyway—to find some space-bird or space-rodent to sink our claws and teeth into. Plus, it was a competition. We had two hours to come up with the biggest haul, and we wanted to win!
As I stalked in front of my friends, I paused and tilted my head to the right. My ear swiveled slightly as I caught a rustle no more than ten feet away. Without saying a word, the five of us spread out. There has got to be an animal in that bush!
A black-furred thing scurried out of the bush... and into our trap. Pinning it down, the five of us suffocated it quickly and stepped back. What we caught was definitely rodent—long, gnarly, yellow teeth poked out of a stubby snout. But those eyes! Oh, those eyes. They were small, black, and infinite.
**
We dragged the ugly black thing, along with some rather common-looking birds, back to the watering hole. Our instinct told us the contest was almost over. Now, to wait for the rest of our friends. We’ll count our catch and declare a winner.
**
Carcasses of ugly rodents and plump birds scattered the shore. We napped contentedly in small groups. We didn’t win the hunting contest—but the prize was bragging rights, so really, who cares? Everyone knew those scary-looking Toms would win anyway. I woke up every now and then as an odd sensation pulsed through me, wondering what sort of pathogen was coursing through my veins. I most definitely felt “off”—but like any good house-cat does, I ate some grass and went back to sleep.
**
“Where’s Max? And all the other cats?” Jayne worriedly asked Carrie.
“Jayne, relax. I saw them all take off together after landing. They’re just doing cat stuff—when was the last time they got a chance to hunt?” Carrie said.
“You’re right. Sorry about that. I just forget that our beloved Max has that killer instinct. I wonder what kind of animals they’ll find on this rock?”
“I don’t know, the Montauk Monster and Sasquatch?”
“Haha. Sounds about right. Should we organize a search party for them soon?”
“For the Montauk Monster and Sasquatch?”
“And Nessie, too. No, smartass, the cats.”
“Well, we’ll leave this place in a day, so I think we’re safe for now. Keep your worrying to yourself for another 12 hours, alright?”
**
As it turns out, we really shouldn’t have gone hunting. If you hunt, you end up eating parts of your prey. But in eating our catch, we changed. I looked around at the other cats. Some were napping, and others were lying down, sneaking surreptitious looks at the other cats. That’s exactly what I was doing.
Those of us awake didn’t want the others to know we stirred. We wished we remained asleep—among other things. We wished we never went hunting, we wished we never left the ship, we wished we were still on Earth. There is absolutely nothing like waking up to realize you are humongous. Not pregnant with a baby or swollen with hives, but physically, much bigger. I mean to say, we had grown overnight. Looking at Genny, I estimated her to be two meters long—taller than most humans.
So what about me? I was huge too. If I stood up, I would certainly tower over Carrie and Jayne. But I didn’t want to get up. Getting up meant facing our humans again. I’ve heard horror stories of big cats in captivity suddenly attacking their masters—would Jayne and Carrie expect that out of me? Betty’s fat face was uncharacteristically worried, as she expressed the sentiments I shared:
Would we all be shot on the spot? Would they leave us here? Depart from Lunik immediately? **
Somebody had to do something. We couldn’t sleep this away. I stretched my paws out in front of me, rolled over, and made my way onto all fours. Then I meowed, loudly.
**
The other cats immediately responded with meek
rooos in return. They were all awake—Paco, Betty, Genny, the Toms—but not wanting to face reality. We were all larger-than-human, like our relatives, the Big Cats: Lions, Cheetahs and Leopards. Which is fine, if we were contained in zoos or the Sahara. But our humans—our benefactors—were not going to be pleased. Looking at each other, we had a collective fear: the humans were not going to take this lightly. Carrie and Jayne, Mase and Kagan, Suri and John, Jensen... they wouldn’t welcome us back on bended knee, catnip in hand.
**
The human reaction was anticipated to be bad—we expected to be greeted with shrieks as we boarded the liner, then perhaps quarantined until some scientists discovered an antidote for our extreme growth. After all, we didn’t want to grow like this... we had been perfectly content being cared for and doted upon. Besides, just because we were six feet long didn’t mean we would start walking upright and take arms against our owners!
**
The reaction was much worse than we had imagined. Yes, there were shrieks. No, our humans didn’t bend down to rub our bellies. They didn’t have a calm discussion about how to herd us on the liner. Pandemonium is a better description of what ensued.
“HOLY SHIT! WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO?” screamed Jensen, whose face now matched his shock of red hair. “These cats are the size of humans. Maybe bigger! LOOK AT THOSE TEETH! AND THOSE CLAWS! THEY WILL KILL US!”
“Holy shit is right,” Carrie said, surprisingly calm. “All of these pets—these cats—could easily take us down.”
“CARRIE!” Jayne screamed back. “HOW COULD YOU! DO YOU—do you really think they are planning to attack us?”
“I doubt they are planning anything,” Carrie replied. “But to be safe, we need to get everyone boarded on the ship. NOW.”
**
ALL HUMAN PASSENGERS BOARD THE CRAFT IMMEDIATELY. DO NOT STOP FOR POSSESSIONS. DOORS 1-6 STARBOARD ARE OPEN. DOORS 10-18 PORT ARE OPEN. THIS ORDER IS MANDATORY. ALL HUMAN PASSENGERS BOARD THE CRAFT WITH URGENCY.
“Honestly? Do we really think a cat attack is imminent? They aren’t stupid creatures. They know we provide for them. Their increased size doesn’t mean they are devious!” said Jayne. “I really think we are overreacting!”
“Yeah. Even if Betty were 18 feet tall and blowing flames out of her nostrils, I don’t think she would cause any harm,” John replied. “But what about those other cats? They could be unpredictable. We can’t trust everyone’s animal. We have to come up with some sort of test.”
“Theoretically, that’s a good idea,” Carrie cut in. “We’ll screen all the cats to weed out the potential evil-doers. We can leave them here, and just allow the nice ones back onto the ship. BUT THAT WON’T WORK. How can you predict an animal’s behavior? If their size changed this radically, do you think that would affect their demeanor?”
“So there’s really no way to know,” Suri added. “Anyway, how do you think people are going to react to their pets being tested? It would be chaos if we told half the people on this ship that they have to ditch their animals.”
“Then there’d have to be some sort of appeals process,” John stated.
“And where are you planning on doing this, anyway?” Jensen interjected. “We can’t very well stay on this planet for weeks while we work it out! What if the cats did attack us? It’s just not worth it. THEY’RE JUST ANIMALS!”
**
We sat outside the space-liner, painfully awaiting our destiny. Funny concept, that. That we would be destined to remain on a foreign planet while our caretakers ditch us. I looked around at my feline companions. Ginger looked me in the eyes, saying
we aren’t supposed to care. This is how we are. We’ll let this roll off our backs. That has been our reputation for ages. The Egyptians were so impressed by our ability to not give a damn, that they encased us in sarcophagi to accompany them on their trips to the afterlife. I guess they needed something to calm them down during that ride.
But this isn’t the same sort of not caring. We pretend like we don’t need our humans; we pretend to not get excited; we pretend that the most fun one can have is hiding in a box-spring. Cats are really gifted at the nonchalant thing. Betty slinked over to Ginger and me:
but we do care. I don’t know what I’d do without John and Suri. We lack that dopey “I would die for you” characteristic that dogs have, but that doesn’t make lying on alien grass and wondering if the ship will just take off without us any less painful.
Heartbreaking, added Ginger.
**
“We need to make a decision NOW! I am not going to sit here while a force of 900 rabid animals plots to take over this ship!” a loud voice echoed through meeting room 3A.
“Jensen, relax, please,” Carrie said, gritting her teeth. “Who said anything about rabid? Or a plot? There is no indication that OUR mild-mannered cats turned into bloodthirsty mutineers! Let’s think rationally here for a moment. Our cats are being watched from the observatory deck upstairs. Just wait ‘til we get a report, OK?”
“Realistically,” Captain Monroe started, “the most pressing issue we have to consider is room. Provided the cats haven’t undergone a personality change, we would bring them all back on board; it’s our obligation. However, we have room for ten thousand humans and 1000 house-cats, tops. Given the size the cats are now, where do we intend to keep them? They can’t all fit in the cat rooms. Plus, their diet has certainly changed. Do we have enough food to sustain them until we reach a colony?”
“YOU ARE OBLIGATED TO YOUR PAYING PASSENGERS, CAPTAIN!” Jensen screeched. “HUMAN LIVES ARE AT STAKE HERE!”
Jayne turned to Carrie. “But at what point do we consider our pets sub-human? Simply because we aren’t the same species? I know Max is cognizant of his environment. And intelligent. And loving. More so than that jackass Jensen!”
“Jayne!” Monroe raised his voice. “Not helping.”
“May I address the crowd, then, Captain?” Jayne asked, as Monroe nodded, preemptively responding to her request. “I asked my wife, ‘At what point do we consider our pets sub-human?’ Is it because they don’t walk on two legs or speak English? Is it because you don’t see them operating on themselves with mini-scalpels or ringing bells outside of discount stores at Christmastime? Is it because they don’t accumulate possessions as if that’s the greatest measure of worth?”
“GET HER OFF THE FLOOR!” hollered Jensen, as his face turned scarlet. “THIS IS IRRELEVANT!”
“NO, JENSEN, Jayne will not cede the floor!” shouted Carrie in return. “Jayne may seem overly emotional. A bleeding-heart. But she makes a great point. Why are you treating our pets like trash? You brought a cat on board. Is he really that easy to throw away—because he threatens you?”
“As all of us got back on board,” Carrie continued, “I took a look at our cats. You know what they were doing? Lying in the grass. Like they did years ago, when we still lived on Earth. Do you know what Jensen and countless others were doing at that time? They were screaming and flailing their limbs around like Kraken! At that moment, who was sub-human?”
**
We waited for three hours before getting up and walking around the ship. We didn’t want to look threatening—but at this point, anything an overgrown domesticated cat did would be considered a threat. I looked up and into the main conference room, where it appeared our fate was being decided. Alongside the kind Captain Monroe stood Carrie and Jayne, each of them speaking unknown sentiments emphatically, their eyes welling up.
I know they are on our side, I tried to express to Genny. But she looked at me as if to say,
Yes, of course they are. But we can’t hear them. We don’t know anything. My curiosity got the best of me. You know that old adage—curiosity killed the cat. Well, cats have nine lives, so they rarely pay for their curiosity. Haha. I’d better be careful, or excessive clichés will kill this cat.
I stalked closer to the window, lifting my front paws against the plexiglass. I could see closer—and things weren’t looking that great for us. Jayne, Carrie and their friends seemed to be battling against one hundred people with louder opinions. Captain Monroe did his best to mediate between the groups, but it was fruitless. It looked like we were nowhere near getting back on that ship. I turned around to Genny, wondering if she saw the same bleak forecast I did. When I looked at her, her eyes darted towards Jensen, who pushed himself past Jayne and out of the conference room. Where’s that sonofabitch going?
**
Soon enough, we had our answer. The boosters powered up and the space-liner started to shake. I stumbled towards the ground as the ship moved upwards.
This is really happening. They are leaving us on this godforsaken rock! Genny and I exchanged looks of disbelief. I turned my head towards the window as a silent
mew escaped my lips. Jayne and Carrie looked down, mutely apologizing for their abject failure to protect me.
WORKS CITED
Aldiss, Brian W. "Introduction."
Space Opera: An Anthology of Way-Back-When Futures. Ed. Brian W. Aldiss. Garden City, New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1974. ix-xiii.
