Cats in Space and Other Places by Bill Fawcett (the first e reader txt) 📕

sssshhaa," she said soothingly. The cat's fur smoothed out, and she emitted an interrogative trill. Marius hugged her. "What do you want? Some more mousse? That sounds a little like mouse."

For answer, a plate slid out of one of the service hatches at floor level, and Kelvin kicked out of Marius's arms to get to it.

"Tuna sushi," Jurgenevski nodded approvingly and went back to his game.

"Bartender," Thomas said, snapping his fingers above his head. "Make me a Tomato Surprise."

Thomas tried to grind the strata of sand out of his eyes long enough to find his morning cup of coffee. He didn't dare sit up lest his brain fall out of his ears before he could nail it in place with a bolt or two of caffeine. "I hope this is strong, baby," he pleaded the computer. "I was naughty last night.

It was strong enough to drag Thomas to his feet and halfway to the bathroom before he knew he'd moved. As he washed up, he realized he was starving. Probably not much of what he'd consumed the night before had significant food value.

"Aw, damn!" he smote himself on the forehead.

Pulling on a coverall, he hurried out into the galley, where Marius was sitting, sipping a cup of black coffee. She glanced up as he dashed in. He glanced past her at Kelvin, who was crouched close to the wall, munching from a bowl.

"Thanks for feeding the cat," he said. "I overslept."

"Didn't do it," Marius said, talking as if forming the words hurt her head. "Maybe Jurgy did."

Jurgenevski's eyes were red and half-closed as he slid into his chair and received a gigantic beaker of orange juice from the serving hatch. "Not me."

"Then, who?" They all looked at each other. "Did we do what I think I remember us doing last night?" Thomas asked, very carefully. The other two nodded slowly, the full reality of their actions returning to them through the mental haze.

As one, they turned to look at the cat, who had finished her meal and was washing her ear with a diligent paw.

From that day on, the human crew members watched as doors opened for the cat before she reached them. Kelvin never had to nag any of them for food, and sometimes got portions of the gourmet goodies that were supposed to be held aside for the individual humans who brought them aboard.

"Pandora," Jurgenevski complained, "that spicewurst was special! It took me years to get it."

"It was necessary to the well-being of Crewmember Kelvin," Pandora said without a trace of reproach or regret. The commander groaned.

"She got some of my Cornish butter, too," Marius reminded him.

"And the smoked turkey I got from my sister," said Thomas.

"That does it. Override the cat's program, will you, Pandora?" Jurgenevski asked. "Kelvin's not supposed to have things like that. It's probably bad for her."

"Working. Request formulae to judge difference between needs of one Terran crewmember and another."

"Darn those Drebs," Jurgenevski muttered. "We all look alike to them. How about job orientation? I'm a captain, this is the navigator, and this is the engineer. The cat's only a pet."

"There is no qualification on this ship's complement for a 'pet.' Identify this crewmember's position," Pandora instructed them.

Jurgenevski shrugged and looked at the others for inspiration. "She's the ship's cat."

"There is no entry in ship rosters for 'ship's cat.' "

Thomas's face lit up. "I guess you could call her Maintenance," he suggested. "She's supposed to handle pest control, even though this thing has never seen a mouse."

The commander could almost hear the mental clicking and whirring as the Pandora digested the information. "Working. As a Maintenance worker, Crewmember Kelvin is entitled to statutory three hundred-sixty credits per week, retroactive to the beginning of this flight, plus additions for trip pay, hazard pay . . ."

Jurgenevski smacked himself in the head and automatically regretted it. "Friends, I think we've just created a monster, but I'm afraid to try and change it again."

"Me, either," Thomas agreed. "One more slipup, and that cat'll end up an admiral."

"We'll have to straighten this out when we get back," Marius put in. "Anything else we do is going to make matters worse."

"I'm not looking forward to getting back to Fladium and explaining to them why the cat is drawing a salary." The brevet commander downed the last of his orange juice and put the empty glass on the serving hatch. It descended out of sight. "Goodbye, field promotion."

"Goodbye, instant seniority," Marius agreed.

"Farewell, smoked turkey," Thomas reminded them. "Still, I can live with it, if you two can."

A few days later, Jurgenevski awoke with a snort in the middle of the night and tried to cry out, but there was something over his mouth. He reached for the light. Marius was sitting on the edge of his bed with her hand plastered over his face to keep him from yelling. He nodded and she let him go.

"I heard some strange noises in the control room," she whispered.

"Something wrong?" he asked, sitting up.

"No. Come and see."

Curious, he followed her down the narrow, enameled corridor. She paused at the threshold of the main chamber, and gestured to him to look past her.

On the main computer screen, tiny, colorful objects shaped like mice scurried back and forth or lowered into view like spiders. As soon as one exited, more would appear. The cat, purring as loudly as a drive engine, was bounding all over the room, throwing herself at the screen, pounding the images with her paws. In the corner, the red numbers were mounting. Pandora must have been keeping score for her own amusement. The cat, focused on her myriad prey, was having a great time. She never acknowledged the humans in the hallway behind her.

Jurgenevski glanced at Marius, who was struggling to contain her laughter. "Why doesn't the computer do this kind of stuff for us?" he whispered. "It's terrific! Look at that, a custom video game!'

"Cats have more needs and they're not particularly ashamed to admit to them," Marius whispered. "I'm