Hobo was only six months old when he decided he wanted to join the space force. Ever the curious kitten, he had snuck away from the litter while his mother was asleep to investigate the loud sounds coming from outside. What he found was a parade of space-cats marching to celebrate another successful battle against the hateful Glarg. Their faces were solemn and their whiskers stiff, but a few of the cats couldn’t stifle their proudly swishing tails.
“Hooray for Captain Tibbles!” Someone shouted, and soon the entire crowd was letting loose a caterwaul of celebration for the captain. Tibbles, a brilliant orange tabby at the head of the parade, acknowledged the crowd’s adulation with the slightest tilt of his head. “I hear he’s likely to be made an admiral for his successes” said one nearby cat to another, casually licking his paw. “I wouldn’t doubt it, and it’s about time,” responded his friend. “I tell you, the state of command recently has been atrocious! It’s time someone with a head between his ears took charge.”
This was all it took for the impressionable young kitten – in his mind, now and forevermore, the soon-to-be Admiral Tibbles became a legend. In fact, Hobo was so absorbed by the spectacle and his own hero worship that he didn’t even notice his mother until she had scooped him up by the scruff of his neck.
“Come now,” she whispered, “that’s enough excitement for you today.”
“Mom, did you see the captain?” Hobo mewled, swinging from her mouth. “They say he’s going to become an admiral!”
“Yes, he’s quite a man,” she purred. “You would do well to be like him when you grow up.”
…
“Be like him when you grow up-” these words echoed through Hobo’s mind as he stood in a crowd of his fellow captains, staring up at the Admiral and waiting for his orders.
“I’ve come this far, mom,” he thought, glancing out the port window at the broken husk that was once his home planet, Whis-skare. “I won’t stop now. I swear I’ll make you proud. So please watch over me.” Only six months ago had Captain Hobo received the devastating news of its destruction, news which had coincided with the news of his promotion to Captain.
“On that day I swore to continue following in Admiral Tibbles footsteps and win this war, whatever it takes,” he recalled, returning his gaze to the old tomcat himself. The war had taken a turn for the worse in those six month – the devastating attack on Whis-skare had only been the first of many, and it showed in the Admiral. His once fiery tabby fur was now patchy, and faded, and his whiskers drooped wearily. Nevertheless his gaze was unbroken, and now he began to speak with a fiery passion.
“Ladies and gentlecats, captains one and all. I’ve assembled you today, the bulk of the Catanian armada, that I might offer you a chance at liberty from our generations-long struggle.” The entire room brightened upon these words. The captains were, of course, used to empty promises of victory just around the corner from the propagandizing Catan government, but coming from Admiral Tibbles himself the words carried a different weight entirely.
“The Glarg believe us beaten. And I won’t lie to you, this war has turned dire. Eight of the nine great planets of Catania have fallen. But what they don’t realize is that we cats will keep fighting till our last life has run out!”
The room erupted into cheers, as if each captain was trying to prove their spirit to the next. Tibbles waited until the Caterwauling died down before calmly continuing.
“And now, our endurance has paid off. After all these years, Central Command has discovered the location of the Glarg’s home planet. So now I ask you, my faithful cats – will we let this opportunity pass us by?”
“No!” Cried the captains, Hobo among them. Now that they had an objective, and a clear path to victory, it was as if the weariness and shame of the past six months had been washed from their souls. Every cat in the room was as eager to commence with the mission as they had been in their rookie days.
Of course some of the cats in the room were still in their rookie days, which is why Hobo was glad when another, more senior captain asked the question that was on his mind.
“But Admiral,” said Captain Fleabottom, “We’ve been defeated time and time again by the Glarg’s hordes. How do we know that this attack won’t be beaten back as well?”
Admiral Tibbles smiled. “That’s just it. Why do you think they’ve had the forces to repel us in every battle? The answer is simple – they haven’t left any forces to guard their home planet. They’ve entrusted its entire security to its secrecy. Our advance scouts have confirmed this. It gave them the edge in battle, but now it will be their downfall.”
A few of the cats nodded along with what Tibbles was saying, as if they had known all along. It did make sense, though – the Glarg had consistently had the Cat forces outnumbered in battle. It was common sense to dedicate at least half your army to guarding your home, but Hobo could easily see the Glarg foregoing this basic precaution in favor of crushing their enemies like a tidal wave. That was all he needed to hear; he was fully on board with the Admiral’s plan. Of course, he would have followed him even without the clarification. And as a low-ranking rookie captain it wasn’t as if his input would have mattered that much.
“Still,” Hobo thought, “I’m sure that Admiral Tibbles appreciates that all of his captains are willing to follow him into the heart of enemy territory.”
The evening before they were set to launch (or what counted as evening in space, anyway) Hobo was to be found standing in front of the main viewport on the starboard side of the space station, a massive sheet of shatterproof glass which provided a constant view of Whis-kare.
“The war’s almost over, mom,” he said silently. “It’ll all be over after this final battle. But even when it is, I’ll continue to fight for the defense of all cats. I swear I’ll make you proud.”
For the past month that he had been docked at this station it had been his ritual to spend a few minutes before curfew at this viewport. There had been a wake for all of the civilian lives lost on Whis-kare but being a captain he hadn’t had time to grieve personally. This was his way of making up for that, at least for now. He’d have time to do it properly when the war was over.
“I knew I’d find you here.” It was his good friend and fellow rookie, Captain Fluffypants. “Offering up one last prayer to your hero Tibbles before the final battle, eh?”
“Shut up,” retorted Hobo, swatting annoyedly at Fluffypants with his tail. He was a good friend and a great captain, but sometimes he seemed to have no concept of boundaries. “What about you? Making plans for all goofing off and tail chasing you’re gonna do when you go home?”
“Of course,” laughed Fluffypants, shamelessly grooming himself. “I signed up for the fame and guaranteed post-war pension. You won’t catch me sticking around the army a minute longer than I have to. But it’s different for your kind, huh? You’re an army-cat for life. You’ll die at a ripe old age, surrounded by the loyal cats under your command instead of grandkids.”
“You’re right about that,” replied Hobo. “As a kitten I couldn’t ever see myself doing anything but this. And now that my home and my family are gone, that’s stronger than ever.”
“In any case, it’s bad luck to talk about your plans for the future on the eve of a big battle,” said Fluffypants. “But if you don’t manage to die heroically in battle tomorrow you’ll always be welcome to spend your leave on the beaches of Pah-pad, boozing it up and watching the lynxes with me.”
“That sounds nice. Then let’s both make sure to survive tomorrow, all right?” Said Hobo.
Before Fluffypants could respond they were intruded upon by a nervous looking cat.
“C-Captain Fluffypants, Captain Hobo,” he stuttered, “T-the Admiral wants to see you in his office.”
“The Admiral?” Said Fluffypants after acknowledging the order and sending away the enlisted cat, “What on Pah-pad could the Admiral himself want with a couple of rookie captains like us?”
“I don’t know,” replied Hobo, “but did you see the poor cat’s face? He couldn’t have been older than a year, and fresh out of boot camp. I’m glad this war will be over soon.”
“Aye. Imagine being a fresh recruit and the first order you get is from the Admiral himself, telling you to go fetch two captains. No wonder he was scared out of his fur.”
“That’s not what I was talking about.” Hobo batted Fluffypants with his paw. “Now come on. We don’t want to keep the Admiral waiting.”
…
“You wanted to see us, sir?”
Admiral Tibbles looked up from the paper on his desk.
“Indeed I did,” he said. “Just one moment, if you will.”
Without waiting for their acknowledgement the Admiral stood up from his desk with the paper he had been reading in his paws and walked to the trash chute set in the opposite wall of the office. From his pocket he removed a plain lighter made of burnished metal. He held the tip of the lighter’s flame to the paper, setting it alight before tossing it down the chute. He then made his way back to his desk. Hobo couldn’t help but notice that his hero was moving more slowly than ever before, as if the contents of the paper had worn him down further than all the past years of war combined.
“Captain Hobo, Captain Fluffypants,” said the Admiral after sitting down. “Thank you both for heeding my summons on such short notice.”
“Not at all, Admiral!” Said Hobo.
“Yeah, what he said,” echoed Fluffypants. “By the way, what was that paper abou-ow!” His question was cut off by Hobo stamping on his tail.
“He should know better!” Hobo thought as he rolled his groaned internally. Fluffypants was smart, but sometimes he didn’t show what Hobo considered to be the proper respect for authority.
“Please, forgive Captain Fluffypants for his indiscretion,” he said aloud. “He should understand that as the Admiral there are things meant for your eyes alone. I’ll be sure to impress this upon him later.” Fluffypants shot him a venomous look but didn’t say anything.
“Apology accepted,” replied Admiral Tibbles. If Hobo didn’t know better he would have thought he saw the slightest twinkle in the old cat’s eyes. “Of course, there’s nothing wrong with asking questions. A little curiosity never killed a cat. But it’s also important to maintain a proper respect for the chain of command. In that regard, you two seem to balance each other out quite well…”
The Admiral trailed off as he stared into the two young cats’ eyes. Hobo could feel the weight of the Admiral’s wisdom and many years of experience bearing down on him, causing his fur to stand on end. Fluffypants felt it, too – there was not a trace of the devil-may-care cat within him at this moment.
After a moment Admiral Tibbles seemed to shake himself out of a stupor. “Forgive me,” he said. “I’m afraid I may be getting on in years; and I summoned the two of you here in the first place! But I was just thinking that if you two are representative of the future of cat-kind, it looks very bright indeed. Which brings me to why I summoned you two here – I have a special assignment for the two of you.”
“A special assignment?”
“What is it, Admiral?”
Neither of the captains could contain their excitement at the prospect of receiving a special assignment in what would be the decisive battle for cat-kind. Fluffypants’ head was filled with visions of glory and rich rewards, while Hobo was brimming for the chance to prove himself to the Admiral.
“In tomorrow’s battle I want the both of you to take your ships, with your entire crew, and hang back, to act as reinforcements in case of an emergency.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
In that instant their dreams of glory and honor were popped like an overfilled balloon.
“But why, Admiral? This battle is supposed to be a decisive surprise attack, which they won’t even see coming! Am I not good enough?” Hobo looked almost ready to cry.
“Wait, but Admiral! If I’m not in the battle I won’t be able to earn a rewa – I mean, earn any glory!”
“Enough!” The Admiral quelled their protests with a single word. He glared at them for a second before breaking into a gentle smile. “The hearts of kits are so full of vigor, unlike us old tomcats. I know you’re both eager to prove yourselves, but this is a very important part of my strategy. Oh, and also, I’ll need you to maintain absolute secrecy over this, all right?”
“Admiral, you don’t suppose-” Hobo lowered his voice to a near whisper, “-that there’s a traitor in the fleet, do you?”
Fluffypants looked at Hobo, shocked into silence.
“I never said that now, did I?” The Admiral said. He sighed. “Suspecting your own crew, it takes a toll on you. I’d rather not, but I have no choice.”
Hobo gazed up at Admiral Tibbles, once more entranced by the cat’s strength. In that moment, he felt that he would do – could do – anything for his Admiral.
“Of course, sir! We are honored to take on this mission!” He declared, rounding it off with a proper tail salute. Fluffypants followed suit.
“Excellent,” said the Admiral. “I’m proud to have such loyal soldiers under my command. Now I’m sure you have preparations to make before shipping out tomorrow. Dismissed.”
As the two captains left the room with their tails held high, Admiral Tibbles sighed with exhaustion.
“Now, there’s nothing more I can do,” he muttered. “It’s all up to those youngsters to ensure the future of cat-kind.”
The Admiral was sorry to place such a burden on them, but he felt as though he couldn’t have picked a better pair for the job.
He reached for a small red phone on his desk – so small anyone would easily miss it among the mess of pens and knick-knacks. This wasn’t a call Tibbles wanted to make, but he had no choice. He picked up the phone and spoke into it without entering a number.
“It’s me. Four, five, two, seven, four.”
He paused, listening to the voice on the line.
“That’s right, I received your message. Everything is prepared. I’ll be entering the coordinates tomorrow when we launch. Be prepared.”
Tibbles hung up the phone without waiting for an answer. “What will happen now, I wonder?” He said aloud, sitting back in his chair. “Either way, tomorrow my role will be finished.”
…
The next day was a storm of claws and fur as cats bounded across Hobo’s ship The Salvation, preparing it for launch. In the eye of it was he was on the captain’s deck, which meant he actually was left with very little to do. His responsibility was to keep an eye on the general state of things and sign off on the necessary actions to be taken when they arose.
“My job will only really begin once we’re on the battlefield,” he thought. “Although this time I do have one responsibility to complete before that.”
He looked down at the personal missive Admiral Tibbles had sent him that morning – the coordinates where his and Fluffypants’ ships would meet in secret. As the Admiral it was Tibbles’ job to input the coordinates for every ship on the fleet at once, in order to maintain cohesion as they traveled together through the open plains of space, but he had given Hobo and Fluffypants one-time permission in the system to override that command.
“Prepare for launch in ten, nine, eight…”
The loud announcement signaled that all ships had confirmed their readiness to depart, and it was time for the massive fleet to begin movement. As the countdown neared zero Hobo snuck a glance to either side to ensure none of his deck officers were watching before surreptitiously entering the new coordinates into his own ship’s computer via the interface on the arm of his chair. Now they’d arrive at their own destination, and none would be the wiser until they were already en route.
“Really, though,” Hobo thought, “is all this secrecy really necessary? I know it was the Admiral’s orders, but I trust my crew.” He glanced at the cats that were scattered across the deck, ensuring the steady movement of the vessel. “But then again, I suppose Admiral Tibbles doesn’t know them as well as I do. And an abundance of caution is an important attribute for any leader.”
He resolved to reflect more on this revelation after the battle, so he could continue to better model himself after the Admiral in every way. But for now, he had to focus on the battle ahead.
…
The ship came out of warp speed a few lightyears outside of the solar system, well out of range of any enemy scanners.
“Captain Hobo, we’ve arrived at our destination,” the navigator reported. “But the rest of the fleet doesn’t seem to have arrived yet…” he trailed off, confused.
“Not to worry,” replied Hobo. “All is according to the Admiral Tibbles’ plan. I apologize for the secrecy, but it was necessary. We’re to observe what happens and provide backup in the case of a trap or ambush.” He gave a set of coordinates to the second mate. “These are the coordinates where the rest of the fleet will come out of warp speed. Start monitoring them, and pull up a video feed of the area. Check for all wavelengths of light, as well as any radio frequencies coming in or out of the area.”
The crew surrounding him looked confused and slightly worried.
“Just us?” One of them asked. “If there is a trap, will we be able to do anything about it?”
“We’ll be joined by reinforcements soon-” Hobo was interrupted by the roar of Captain Fluffypants’ ship exiting warp speed. “Speak of the devil” he grumbled, and had his communications officer hail the ship.
“Captain Fluffypants, you’re late. Are you prepared?”
“Of course I am, Hobo,” Fluffypants chirped. “How does the situation look with the old Admiral Tibbles?”
Fluffypants was being extra annoying today, but Hobo let it slide. He knew Fluffypants was just using it to hide his nerves. They both had a lot riding on this. He looked over at his second mate, who signaled that all was clear at the moment.
“The fleet hasn’t arrived at their destination yet,” he told Fluffypants. “But the moment they do we’ll be on high alert. I’m already monitoring all communications.”
“Good. Now, we wait. My favorite thing!”
The two ships hovered in heliostasis for about five minutes, during which time the crew of The Salvation became more and more restless.
“Any sign of them yet?” Hobo asked the second mate for the fourth time, who just shook his head in reply.
“Captain,” broached the first mate, looking slightly worried, “Don’t you think this plan of the Admiral’s is a little bit odd?”
“Odd? What do you mean by that?” Hobo asked.
“I mean everything, sir. You say the Admiral told you it was necessary to keep this operation a secret, but won’t someone in the fleet notice that two ships are missing? And for that matter, what are two ships supposed to do if there is an ambush?”
“Enough!” Hobo ordered. “The Admiral has full faith in the abilities of The Salvation and her crew, and I won’t permit anyone to question his judgement.”
“But even so, Captain-” the first mate began to protest, but was cut off by a call from the second.
“The fleet has left warp speed! They’ve arrived at a destination several lightyears out from our own.”
Hobo leapt into action, completely forgetting about his officer. “All decks, prepare for battle!” Then, to the second mate, “What’s the situation? Have they entered battle?”
“No, sir. There doesn’t seem to be any reaction.”
“None?”
“That’s correct, sir. In fact, there are no signals coming from the planet whatsoever. It almost seems like a dead planet.”
“Dead? Did HQ give us bad information?” Hobo wondered aloud.
“Hold on a moment, sir, there appears to be a single ship approaching, but not from the planet. It’s coming from the outer reaches of the system. Captain – it’s one of ours!”
“What the hell is going on down there?” Hobo was completely thrown by this news, so perhaps it is fair to say that there is nothing he could have done to prevent the tragedy which was unfolding right beneath his eyes.
As Hobo watched the new ship approach the fleet, he saw that its name had been crudely painted over and replaced with the words Destruction. The ship allowed its momentum to carry it closer and closer to the fleet, and when it reached the flagship it broadcasted a single transmission, strong enough for every ship in the fleet to hear:
“I’m sorry. Goodbye, Admiral.”
At that moment the ship’s solar drive ruptured, creating an explosion with the size and power of a sun. Every ship caught in the blast reacted similarly, adding their own energy to the blast, creating a chain reaction which erased the entire fleet from existence within moments.
Floating well outside of the radius of the blast, the entire crew of The Salvation was completely silent. Blood was pounding in Hobo’s skull as the blast, which was so large it was visible to the naked eye, faded away. As his tunnel vision cleared he realized he was standing aggressively, ready to pounce, with his ears folded back and his tail sticking straight out. His officers watched him fearfully, unsure what to do.
“Get me Fluffypants!” He hissed at the nearest cat, abandoning all formality. “What the hell is this?” He asked as soon as Fluffypants’ video feed was visible.
“I saw the exact same thing you did,” replied Fluffypants.
“How can you be so calm? Don’t you have any pride as a cat?”
“Of course I do! We need to stay calm. Didn’t you see? That was a cat ship. Every ship in the fleet was either brought in for this attack or remained docked at Catan to guard it. That means the entire government itself is compromised. Or maybe they’re all dead, not that it matters. Either way, don’t you know what that means?”
“We’re the only leaders left…” Hobo trailed off. “Fluffypants, what are we going to do?”
“We have to assume Catan is gone. Whether it’s literally true or not, our combined crews are the only cats left. One of us will have to find a new home.”
“One of us?”
“If the Glarg have control of our home, they have access to all the fleets records. They’ll know we survived, and they’ll be able to track us. I think-” his voice hitched for a moment. “I think that’s why the admiral picked two of us.”
“What are you saying?!” Said Hobo, “The traitor-”
“I’m saying that we shouldn’t worry about the traitor,” snarled Fluffypants. “That’ll only sow discord in the crew. Right now it doesn’t matter if there is a traitor because they can track us wherever we go. Do you understand what needs to be done?”
Hobo did understand. He wished he didn’t.
“I’ll do it,” he said.
“No, you won’t,” Fluffypants interjected immediately. “It has to be me. You have a drive I never did – you’re the only one who can lead the crew to a new home.”
“I can’t!” mewled Hobo. “They’ve taken everything from us! How can you tell me not to do anything about that?”
“You’re not the only one that’s angry,” Fluffypants replied, his voice hoarse.
This startled Hobo. He hadn’t even noticed it, but Fluffypants’ fur was standing on end. His burning desire for revenge was instantly quelled by shame. Fluffypants was as angry as him – of course he was – but he was holding it together for his cats. “I don’t deserve revenge,” he thought.
“I understand.”
…
It took a whole day to transfer Fluffypants’ crew to The Salvation. They didn’t want to leave their captain, but they understood what needed to be done. Every one of his officers offered to go in his place, but-
“It’s my duty as the captain,” said Fluffypants.
Thus their offers were immediately rejected.
In an emergency the entire ship could be piloted by a single cat for short stretches, and Fluffypants was only going to need a single shot.
The two captains traded no parting words. Hobo didn’t trust himself to let Fluffypants go if he saw him again.
Fluffypants didn’t look back as his ship was about to jump to warp. If he had, he would have seen The Salvation proudly displaying full-dress, as a final salute.
It didn’t take long for Fluffypants to reach his home system – there was no need to conserve fuel, after all. As his ship exited warp speed into what had once been clear space he found it had become a ship graveyard. Pieces of hull were scattered as far as he could see. Most of them were recognizable as Glarg ships, with their unnatural curvature and sickly hues.
“Our boys fought well,” Fluffypants said aloud, but this was the only thought he allowed himself to spare for his dead comrades before locking the ship’s navigation system onto the planet which had just come into scanning range: home.
Warning: current navigation will lead to a collision course with planet: Catan. The message flashed on screen in bold red letters, but Fluffypants ignored it as he prepared to enter warp speed, 99 percent the speed of light, one final time.
“Goodbye, Catan. Goodbye, Hobo.”
…
Hobo was awakened by a crew cat in too much of a rush to give him any details, simply telling him to “Get to the bridge!”
“What is it? Another attack?” He yowled as he bounded onto the bridge.
“No, sir,” said his first mate, almost whispering. “It’s a planet. Hospitable to life, and uninhabited.”
This was the only news that could still shake Hobo to his core.
“You really mean it?” He asked, not daring to believe. “After two whole years of searching, of fleeing from our enemies, we’ve found a new home?”
“That’s right, sir,” the mate replied, blinking back tears.
“And it’s uninhabited?” This bore repeating, for it was the most unbelievable part. Almost every planet in the galaxy which could support life – and many of those which could not – had already been colonized. But here in this remote arm of the galaxy was a perfect, untouched planet.
“We believe it’s because of the natives, sir,” replied the first mate.
“The natives? I thought you said this planet was uninhabited?”
“Well, there’s been some debate on that. By our definitions they’re not technologically advanced or even smart enough to be considered inhabitants. They’re more like animals. But they have an affinity for tools and some semblance of culture, which has allowed them to flourish in every corner of the planet. They’re also incredibly physically strong, more so than any spacefaring species, yet they’re not even the strongest animal on the planet.
Hobo thought about this. No advanced civilization like that of the cats would bother even researching being-to-being combat. What would be the point of that when you possess the technology to destroy planets from space? He could imagine that any empire which wished to colonize this planet would run into a roadblock from such fearsome strength. And yet, considering the rarity of naturally inhabitable planets, it would be a waste to simply destroy it. No doubt that was the reason this pristine planet had yet to be assimilated throughout all of history.
“What are your orders, Captain?” Asked the first mate. After only a few moments of thinking Hobo came to a decision.
“If what you say is true, it won’t be possible to take this planet from its current inhabitants. And yet this is a one in a million opportunity, one which we can not pass up. So what are we to do? We won’t take this planet through force, but through subterfuge. The inhabitants of the planet also pose a rare opportunity; strong, good with tools, and only just smart enough to think for themselves? We won’t conquer these natives but ingratiate ourselves to them. Gone are the days of the glorious empire of Catania, and likewise we must abandon our proud ways to survive. We’ll influence these animals to become warlike, and fear the unknown, creating more and more powerful weapons to stave off that fear.”
His officers seemed unsure of this.
“Abandon our pride? Then what will we live for?” One asked.
“We’ll live to survive,” replied Hobo. “And we’ll survive for the hope that one day these animals will become our scourge across the galaxy, wreaking woe upon all those who have wronged us!”
The possibility of not just survival but retribution on their enemies was all that was needed to bring the officers to his side. The deck erupted into cheers.
“Is this what Admiral Tibbles would have done?” He wondered, but he tried not to think of the Admiral very much anymore. When he did, he couldn’t help but wonder if the cat’s only mistake had really been one.
“Does this planet have a name?” He didn’t really care what it was called, but he asked the question anyway to stave off the gnawing notion.
The first mate replied, “The natives call it Earth.”