Izz panted into her spacesuit, hoping the humidity wouldn’t fog her viewport. “Greaves? We good?”
“Breathable air,” her sentient ship confirmed from where the AI and its host hovered, only noticeable as a steadily moving speck across the daylight sky. “I’ve accessed the colony records. Idiots.”
She coughed, and left her hands hovering over the disconnecting spiral, ready to twist her helmet into oblivion. After six months of harboring an illegal AI and the headaches her ship brought, Izz thought she understood why the ban existed. “Tell me more?”
“No predators,” Greaves said with derision. “They just didn’t bring enough supplies. Fled for another planet before the last five died of starvation, but they died en route and never showed. Probably because they’d killed off all their pilots.”
“Um.” The AI’s ruthlessness sometimes scared her. “You mean they starved, right?”
“That ship’s still out there, if we want to search for it. 500-plus years adrift. Bet I can find it.”
“What, they didn’t auto-pilot?” The response was muffled as she struggled out of the protective suit. Izz popped the earbug back into place. “Say again?”
“The colony comprised an anti-technology sect,” Greaves said primly. “Only used the spaceship to get here and back. No pesticides, no genetically modified seeds, just living off the land without a backup plan. The comms with the other colony made it sound uninhabitable, so no one came to pick up what was left behind. Then the other colony failed, and everyone forgot.”
“Wow.” Izz shook her head. “Should be lots to find, then.” She could have sworn the AI was humming with satisfaction. “Don’t gloat.”
“I told you I could increase your profits by analyzing the archives.”
Izz grimaced. “We’ll see.” She slung her helmet to the strap crossing her chest but left the heavy suit alone. “Might’ve been too long. You never know.”
Ten minutes later, she was trying to figure out how to manage a space tow for the forty ships slowly aging in port. “You’re sure the hull integrity is intact?”
“Yes,” Greaves snapped. “As I said, the hangar was hermetically sealed. They wanted to make sure no one could leave.”
“We can tow all of them,” Greaves wheedled.
She snorted. “Until we get into port. Besides, I don’t have enough fuel for that many trips through atmo.”
The ship sulked. “Solid-state fuel should still be fine. I can hack in and pilot. It’s a big score! Why are you being so recalcitrant?”
“Because I want to look successful, not like a flying target for pirates while I tow a convoy,” Izz said drily. “I get it. The chances of someone else following our trail increase with every trip. But your fancy flying doesn’t work with more than a single tow, and we’re not set for weapons until we cash out.”
“Mew.”
“Er. Say again, G?”
A creature with enormous ears nosed at her boots with a quiet nudge. “Mew?”
“What are you, cutie?” The wildlife hadn’t spooked at the sight of Izz, with only a single fluffy pink poofball objecting to her shuttle. She’d initially thought it was a spore, but now suspected a type of bird.
This creature, though, was multicolored with short fur, enormous whiskers, and plaintive eyes that matched its repeated cry. She didn’t reach down, even though she still wore her puncture-resistant gloves.
“That’s a kut,” Greaves said confidently. “Oh. I mean, a cat. The pronunciation isn’t what I thought. Funny, that. Cats didn’t make it into space. The fur sheds, apparently.” A pause. “Except for those two colonies.”
Izz studied the creature reach for her bootlace with a clawed paw, throwing its whole body into pouncing before rolling into a ball. “Maybe this was an anti-tech group’s idea of pest control.”
“Respect,” Greaves said, sounding anything but. “That’s exactly why.”
“Wasn’t the Cogtop port having a pest control issue? Enough that they’d look past a bit of fur in the filter?” Izz felt her fingers twitch.
“They’re also traditionally companions,” the AI intoned. “When not feral, which these certainly are. The pest control aspect is an excellent and profitable idea, however.”
“These? Plural?” Izz jerked her head up and studied the door to the docks. “Oh. Oh, my.”
At least two dozen sets of yellow-green eyes were watching her.
“Greaves,” she whispered. “I think they understand, somehow.”
The AI was silent for a few moments. “Think you can get them in the shuttle while you load up one of these ships with the artifacts?”
She paled. “They just headed for my shuttle. All of them. Together.”
The rest of the day passed in a blur, and Izz had no idea what measure of antique electronics and collectibles she’d packed away in the hold. “This had better work.”
Greaves didn’t answer.
Nothing could have made Izz move faster.
By the time she finished securing the ancient ship to her own hitch and inched her way over to the airlock, it was nearly an hour later. She was sweaty, exhausted, and grateful the creatures filling her hold as extra trade goods hadn’t managed to take off with her salvager.
The airlock opened to reveal a pile of electronic giggles and swirling fur. “Look, Izz! They like the treats!”
A piece of hard cheese popped out of an air vent and launched into the pile of wrangling cats, sparking another series of mews and scrabbling paws. “I bet I can train them by the time we get to port!”
***
I meandered with this, and it didn’t quite go where I thought, but that’s okay. Thanks to Cedar for the prompt, and for all of y’all bearing with my absence over a family thing, and I can’t wait to see what Padre does with a stolen turtle! Check out more over at MOTE, and don’t forget there’ll be new prompts posted tomorrow. Cheers!
