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By Root 558 0

of raising kittens was to let the little buggers grow and crawl and feed their tiny round tummies. Once they were born, she intended to feed the needs of her exhausted body with blissful sleep. She thought she could sleep through anything at this point. When she recalled the pleasure she had enjoyed raising the first litter, the second, the third, even the fourth, she purred. But now, many litters later, the thrill was gone. Her crew liked to brag about what a good mother she was, but it made her tired just thinking of having more kittens to bear, to wash, to carry until her jaws ached. She would once more train them in their jobs and their basic feline survival skills, then, just as she was getting used to having them around, she’d lose them when they were sold to other ships. Never mind. She would miss them, but they would be someone else’s problem. She opened her eyes a slit, sighed, rearranged her paws, and fanned her plumelike tail over them so its tip covered her nose. As soon as the kits were gone, there’d be some new tom thrust at her, giving her the same old song and dance that meant, in time, more kittens.

That was all very well for toms. They only had one career, spending their time cruising their ships, hunting space vermin, snuggling with and cadging occasional treats from crew members, and being called upon to breed the poor queens who then had to bear the consequences and the kittens.

She dreamed of pouncing on the next tom like she would pounce on a rat. She purred in her sleep and had a lovely, lovely rest, rising only to nibble on more delicious food before sleeping again.

It was a most excellent vacation, exactly when she needed it, and she hoped Janina and Dr. Jared would be gone a long time on their errand.

Sometime later she woke with a start to the screams of horses and the smell of smoke. Where was her Kibble, and why wasn’t she back yet? She had to warn her about the smoke! And then she saw rough human male hands reaching for the front door to her cage …

CHAPTER 2

Jubal Poindexter left the barn door open while he sat on a hay bale sharpening the scythe his dad had promised to sharpen before he left. Jubal had learned a long time ago not to set much store by his dad’s promises. The farm would have gone to wrack and ruin if Jubal and his mama depended on the old man to keep his word.

Jubal really had hoped his dad might remember about the kitten, though. His birthday had been two weeks ago and Dad promised him, “Just between us men.” Jubal couldn’t even tell his mama why he was so disappointed when his dad didn’t come home when he said he would. Mama didn’t like cats, which was why that particular birthday promise had been secret. That, Jubal suspected, and Dad would have to make up wild stories about how his failure to keep the promise was definitely not his fault for one less person.

How could Mama not like cats? They were so pretty—and useful. This old barn was overrun with vermin of all descriptions—rats, mice, lizards, snakes, all manner of bugs, including the shiny beetles there seemed to be so many of nowadays. A cat would sort them out in no time flat, and also be his friend and someone to play with. He didn’t mind a lot of Dad’s broken promises—even though he was barely eleven years old he could already do lots of the work Dad should have been doing—but a kitten wouldn’t have been hard to come by. Unwanted kittens were given away all the time. Jubal only needed just the one tiny free kitten and he’d have had himself the best birthday yet. But no, his dad was an important man with important space stuff to do. Horsefeathers!

A single shameful tear of self-pity welled up in his eye, and he rubbed at it furiously. Something streaked across the sunlight streaming in through the open barn door. His head snapped up, but by then whatever it was had leaped into the shadows and was scattering straw hither, thither, and yon.

Setting the scythe carefully beside the bale, Jubal stood up and took a cautious step toward the commotion. Might be a fox or a weasel after the chickens, though most