Admiral Tibbles of the first, second and third fleets for cat-kind gazed proudly at the assortment of faces standing on the bridge in front of him. Truly, these were the best of the best. The elite. Had not Captain Snowball bravely maneuvered his single ship to outflank and destroy three of the Glarg’s in the battle for Planet Fluffy? And what of Captain Pibbles who, upon being boarded, led her crew into melee combat and regained control of her ship? Truly, never had a force so courageous, so noble and so true of purpose been gathered.
“Ladies, gentlecats and others,” Admiral Tibbles began, “All of you have been gathered here under my command to embark on a mission more dangerous, yet more noble and important than any other you may have partaken in before.”
“Just tell us who to blow up, Tibbles!” A ripple of laughter, then silence as the admiral acknowledged the joke and continued.
“I won’t lie to you about the odds; there’s a good chance neither you nor your crew will make it back home alive. I also know that most if not all of you have been on deployment for years, with no chance to see your families in all of that time. That is why, if any of you choose not to accept this duty, you may leave right now. I will not hold it against you, and I will personally ensure no disciplinary action falls upon you.
“But, if you with it, this is our opportunity to make those bastard Glarg pay for all they’ve taken from us. Our chance to put an end to years of bloodshed! Think of all the lives we’ve lost. All the years of youth that have been snatched away from our children. Are you ready to stand up? To stand up and say ‘No more!’? If you are, I implore you to stay, and fight with me.”
The room was silent. Not a single cat left. Admiral Tibbles felt his heart swell with pride.
“Of course, I expect all of you to give the same option to your crew. But assuming that you are all left with enough crew to man your ships, here’s the plan. HQ has finally managed to locate the Glarg’s home planet. Don’t ask me how, but I’m sure they’ll be giving out medals to our boys back home in intelligence. Our job is simple enough: get in there, smash up whatever troops they have guarding the place, and force a surrender on pain of extinction. HQ estimates that with they way their army is spread out they can’t have more than one fleet guarding their whole home planet. Any questions?” A few paws went up, and Admiral Pibbles spent the rest of the night going over the finer details of the plan, determining battle strategy, and addressing concerns.
The next morning, Pemdas the twenty-second (cat-kind universal calendar) the first, second and third fleets set course for the coordinates given to them as the Glarg home planet, under the command of Admiral Tibbles. Their destination was hundreds of lightyears from their home planet, but because the fleets had gathered at a remote satellite planet the journey only took them a few days. On Thrombus the twenty-fifth the fleet exited inter-stellar travel speeds ten parsecs from their destination. Admiral Pibbles stood on deck of the flagship, judging the situation.
“It’s quiet. Too quiet…”
He ordered a comm-link established between himself and two ships of the third fleet.
“Captain Fleabottom, Captain Hobo, I suspect and ambush. I don’t know how, but if our battle plans were leaked heads will roll. In the meantime, I want you two to hang back and be prepared to provide reinforcement.”
The two captains acknowledged his order but were noticeably crestfallen. The admiral smiled kindly at both of them.
“Don’t worry, there’ll be plenty of glory to go around. If it is an ambush, you two will be the glorious heroes come in to save the fleets from destruction.” This perked up the both of them, and so the fleet set off.
But as they traveled farther and farther and found nothing, the ships were beset with anxiety.
“No ships, no mines, no satellites…nothing?” Breathed Admiral Tibbles.
“Sir, the given coordinates are within scanning range, and we’re still not picking up anything,” reported a crew member. “In fact, we’re not even finding a planet.”
“No planet?” The admiral was dumbfounded.
“We’re picking up a single ship moving to our location at inter-stellar speeds!” Cried another crew member. The presence of a potential threat galvanized Admiral Tibbles at once.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
“Evasive maneuvers!” He ordered, “and divert all remaining power to shields!”
But when the ship entered their space it slowed, and as it approached it was reported that the ship was hailing them on cat frequencies. They answered, and Admiral Tibbles was both relieved and bewildered to recognize the voice that came over the comm-link.
“Admiral Tibbles,” it said, “you have served well. You and every ship under you is a credit to cat-kind.”
“Second Admiral Prickles?” Gasped the first admiral, “What is the meaning of this? The coordinates we were given by HQ-“
“There is no HQ anymore,” interrupted Admiral Prickles. “The war ended months ago. This was one of the…terms of surrender.”
“Admiral!” interrupted one of the crew before Admiral Tibbles could ask the second admiral what he meant, “The solar drive on that ship is unstable, and reaching critical levels! It’s about to blow!”
“I’m sorry, Tibbles,” cried Prickles, “they have my family.”
As Admiral Tibbles and the three fleets under his command were engulfed in the power of a dying sun, his last thought was a question:
“What did I do wrong?"
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Captain Hobo watched aghast as the destruction unfolded before him. But he was a cat of action, and it didn’t take long for him to decide on a course.
“Set an immediate course for home!” The order was a short hiss.
“And what are you planning to do once you get there?” The question came from Captain Fleabottom, hailing from his own ship.
“Isn’t it obvious? I’ll verify if what was said to the admiral is true! If we really have surrendered to the hateful Glarg.”
“And if it is true?”
“I’ll raze the planet,” Hobo finished darkly.
“You’ll do no such thing,” replied Captain Fleabottom.
“If we really have surrendered to the Glarg, there’s nothing worth saving!” protested Captain Hobo.
“You’ll do no such thing,” repeated Captain Fleabottom, “because I need you alive to take my crew upon your ship for me. Find a habitable planet, and live. Live and carve out a future for all cats.”
Captain Hobo wanted to argue, but it was then that he noticed Captain Fleabottom’s tail was standing rigid. He was angry, too, but he was holding it together for his crew. Hobo felt ashamed. He didn’t deserve honor or revenge.
“All right. For the future of cat-kind I swear to find us a new home. And we will never forget what happened here today.”
Captain Fleabottom nodded. “Good. See that you don’t.”
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“My lord, it is time for you to get up.”
King Glarglobulol opened his bulbous black eyes and rose heavily from his bed. The Glarg were typically a lanky, almost stretched race, but as the king he alone had the privilege of his immense rolls of fat. As King Glarglobulol’s servants dressed him, he addressed his chief advisor:
“What’s on the agenda for today?”
“Well, my lord, this morning you have another meeting with what remains of the cat government regarding the reparations they owe you. After that there is another parade through their former capital city scheduled.”
“That sounds incredibly exhausting,” the king complained.
“I know, my lord,” the advisor simpered, “but after that you will be receiving the new concubines offered by the cats! And I know how much you’ve been looking forward to that. So if you can just hang in there to listen to them whine for a little, then hold out for the parade, I promise it’ll be worth it.”
“Mmm…” the king considered. “I suppose I can do my best. But the concubines had better be good! And I don’t want any more weeping over the reparations I demand of their governance.”
So it was that King Glarglobulol was in the middle of the capital city as Captain Fleabottom’s ship, one of only two ships left in the entire cat armada, approached the planet at ninety-nine-point nine percent of the speed of light. He was so busy thinking about his new concubines that he almost missed his advisors sudden panic at the massive object speeding toward the planet at inter-stellar speeds. He did not miss it when the ship struck.
Captain Fleabottom’s final kamikaze attack succeeded in its purpose. Not a single-celled organism was left alive on the planet. The entire Glarg government was wiped out in a s ingle strike. With the central government gone, and no one to maintain inter-planetary infrastructure, every planet under Glarg control found themselves utterly alone overnight. Most of them starved within the year. Bu ta few Glarg remained, re-learning self-sufficiency, slowly rebuilding with dreams of their old glory returned.
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Captain Hobo didn’t wonder if Fleabottom had been successful. He had complete faith in his comrade, and new Fleabottom had complete faith in him. He only needed to prove that faith.
“Have you found a planet suitable for life yet?” He impatiently questioned his crew.
“Just one,” answered a crew member, “but it’s already inhabited.”
“Already inhabited?” Asked Hobo.
“Yes, sir. They seem fairly stupid, although they do appear to have a certain affinity for tools. Shall I prepare a subjugation force?”
“Hold on,” replied Hobo. “There are certainly Glarg remnants out there, and if they suspect that there are any surviving cats they’ll be looking for revenge. The last thing we need to do is draw attention to ourselves by forcefully subduing a native populace.”
“Are you suggesting we set ourselves at the mercy of the locals?” Asked another crew member.
“If you suggest I would debase myself in such a way again I’ll have your tongue!” Snarled Captain Hobo. “And that would still make too much noise. No, we’ll slowly integrate ourselves with these natives, until they’re certain we’ve been with them since the beginning of time. And we won’t set ourselves at their mercy, either! We’ll guide the progress of their technology by encouraging war between them and instilling into them a fear of the alien and unknown. They will be the instrument of our return to power.”
The bridge broke into cheers at the mastery of the idea. When it dies down he asked, “What is the name of our new home?”
“The natives call it Earth.”