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Thursday 19 May 2011

Ships in Space



The British Interplanetary Society is considering launching a boat from Earth, hurling it 746 million miles through space, and plopping it onto one of the minus-290 degrees Fahrenheit methane oceans of Titan. This mission to Saturn’s largest moon would be the first of its kind to probe an alien ocean and—depending on the weather conditions—could be the first spacecraft to witness extraterrestrial rain. It would be flown in bits from the James Watt Foundry in Birmingham, along with a small, cryogenically frozen contingent of Kronstadt Sailors (well used to cooler climes) and transportation mules. The 2,766 pieces including a deconstructed Bolinder-Munktell marine diesel and two crankshafts will, on arrival, be reassembled on the shores of Kraken Mare.


This is not a cat related story as such, since there will be no moggies on the trip.   The payload of some 250 tons precludes the carrying of an adequate additional supply of Boz-snacks.   However we shall follow its progress eagerly, with a view (If it is successful) to getting an Arctic Coleyfishtrawler up there whilst the seas on Titan are still relatively virginal.

I Come From The Stars


Phoebus had had a plan – he’d wait.   The thing would get hungry, or bored, or homesick, or just forget why it was hiding, and then it would come out.   His plan had not included being shouted at.

He sat up, stunned.   Then quickly went into the lounge and woke Boz, who was sleeping on the sofa.
“I think you’d better come and see this.”   They padded, together into the dining room.   “I found it outside.   It’s just called to me, in Cat.”
Boz tilted his head to one side and studied the creature.   "Did it say anything useful?"
“It said,  ‘Take me to your leader.’   Do I have a leader?”
“Shouldn’t think so.   What’s a leader?"
"Should I poke it?"
"No."   Boz pushed his nose towards the alien.   "Let's humour it.   What are you and where are you from, little creature?"
Well, so far so good.   There were two of the terrifying predators now.   The second one was even bigger and a darker orange, but with more white.   It did not look any less dangerous.   1Fnyrdh's throat was dry and she was trembling slightly - imperceptibly she hoped.
"I am 1Fnyrdh of the Kwmbry and I come from up there..."
The two cats looked up.
"Did it just say it fell off the ceiling?" asked Boz.
"It's making it up." replied Phoebus, "I brought it in from next door's garden."
"No..." 1Fnyrdh indicated towards a large transparent rectangle in one of the walls, "...out there.   I come from the stars."
"Now it says it fell through one of the shiny holes in the big black roof.   Has it got concussion?"
Phoebus had dropped onto his elbows and was beginning to wiggle his bottom.   Before he could pounce Boz stopped him.   "Give it a bit longer, this is fun."
"I am a space wrecked traveller, sole survivor from a doomed Galaxy Class ore carrier.   I am unable to return to my home world without your assistance."   She assumed the posture of a supplicant.   Then, indicating her surroundings 1Fnyrdh continued, "Your species has obviously achieved wondrous technological advances, are you capable of interstellar flight?"
"What is technological?" asked Boz.
"What is advances?" asked Phoebus.
"You are too modest, this vast hall with its amazing artefacts, the many buildings beyond, only a great civilisation could construct such marvels or take all this for granted."
"This..." explained Boz, "...is Home.   You don't construct Home, it just is; it's more to do with philosophy than physics."
"And we are ginger moggies from the planet Hereandnow," added Phoebus, "and we eat small creatures - even annoyingly deluded, gobby ones that think they are aliens."
Not going quite so well now, then.   Oh, Sqwrll!   If this was Star Quest she'd just shoot her way out of this mess and steal herself one of their space ships.   Only they didn't seem to have any space ships and Leading Spacepeople were hardly going to be let loose near guns.   The crews of VLBCs were notoriously quirky.   It was a long time between ports and you had to be a bit mad to be out there in the first place.
"We may have got off on the wrong foot here.   Please, let me try to explain.   I have inadvertently become trapped on your planet, which, pleasant as it may seem to you, is far from my home.   I am considering the possibility that you are not the dominant species here and I wonder if you could put me in touch with..."   The voice of the translator distorted.   There was a pause, then it said, "Battery low!" in all known languages and went silent.   1Fnyrdh carried on for a while in Kwmbrysh, but it was pointless.

When Richard came in to see what all the meowing was about he found the three of them standing motionless, each apparently waiting for one of the others to do something.
"What the hell have you brought in this time, Phoebus?"   He peered down at the tiny creature with its long pointed face, black boot-button eyes, grey velvety coat and short, whip-like tail. "That's not a mouse, what on earth is it?"   It looked up as he dropped a beer glass over it and slipped a piece of card underneath.   As he inverted the assemblage the little animal fell into the bottom of the glass, squeaking angrily.   Richard carried it carefully outside whilst Phoebus and Boz searched all the nooks and corners of their dining room for their now missing lunch.   Richard walked some way down the lane and stopped at an overgrown patch of waste ground.   He tipped out the none too grateful animal that he felt he had rescued at no slight inconvenience to himself.
"Off you go, little feller.   This should give you a head start.   And be a bit more careful in future."

Wednesday 18 May 2011

Are Clangers Edible?

Phoebus had brought it in through the cat-flap and then lost it.   More often than not the ones that got away were field mice, but this one was sort of silvery and a bit slippery.   It may have gone under the dresser.   Phoebus clawed about for a bit, rediscovered a long lost toy and then went into the kitchen for a snack.

They had run into real trouble as they approached Jupiter.   1Fnyrdh of the Kwmbry, as the first spawned offspring in her pod, had been expected to take up an apprenticeship under her biological parent, but instead had run away to space.   Just short of three standard years later, stressed yet highly motivated by the multiple alarms sounding around her, she occupied the post of Leading Spaceperson on the Sunburst Supernova a Galaxy Class VLBC cargo transporter, the size of a small city and with a carrying capacity of just over a billion Short (Qrwm) Tonnes.   Not that size had proved an advantage just at that moment.   A massive solar storm had taken out anything with a processor in it and fried Kilometres of micro-wiring.   Quantum Uncertainty Computers can be finicky at the best of times, their awesome power deriving from the myriad multiple states possible compared to the on-or-off, 1s or 0s of binary computer systems.   But they would not work if they were being watched, and the pulse of solar radiation had definitely given the impression of something that  was watching, and probing, and fiddling about.   Whilst the small crew had been absorbed with restoring control the mega-vessel had ventured too far into the gravitational field of the gas giant.   Swift action had avoided capture, but a sling shot effect had accelerated them towards the centre of the planetary system.   Then they had collided with the asteroid.  

Sunburst Supernova’s spine snapped instantly and she began slowly to fold.   There was a moment of silence and calm and then, with a succession of shudders and groans the great craft broke up spewing grit clouds of ore out into space.   The entire officer class had been wiped out when the navigation deck was destroyed, much of the accommodation had experienced explosive depressurisation.   1Fnyrdh had assisted her surviving companions into a life-craft and watched it depart.   Then she attended to her own survival.   Mind numbingly loud klaxon alarms and strobing red companion-way lights kept her mindful of the impending danger, but were in no way helping.   She located what was probably the last undamaged life-craft, battled into one of its personal environment suits, rushed through the standard checks, blew the bolts and blasted away from the doomed carrier.   Onboard automated systems with some restored functionality turned both life-craft towards a distant blue planet.

As the two craft approached the blue planet 1Fnyrdh could make out an atmosphere and clouds.   The navigation computers on both craft calculated the correct safe entry angle and velocity and the first life–craft made precise adjustments to its attitude.   Her companions’ small vessel was some ten minutes ahead.   It entered the outer layers of the planet’s atmosphere, glowed briefly and exploded.   1Fnyrdh urgently flicked the life-craft systems to manual, the computer resisted, 1Fnyrdh insisted.   Everyone in the crew had undergone extensive simulated disaster training, she had narrowly failed hers and been scheduled for reassessment.   Never the less she made tiny adjustments to her craft’s trajectory, too much and she would bounce off the atmosphere into the chill darkness, offered a fervent prayer to her Pod Deity despite having ignored it since childhood, recalculated and made a few more adjustments, and then gave up; she was only guessing anyway.

After a fiery and nerve racking descent she did not so much land as crash.   The life-craft bounced once and skidded, scoring a linear, dirty brown scar across a plain of tall, broad-leaved grassland.   It pitched over a low, bare hillock and came to rest amidst the roots and trunks of a cramped cluster of flowering trees.   1Fnyrdh pulled the release catch on the outer hatch.   There was a hiss, but it did not move.   Two stout kicks and the hatch cover flew away, 1Fnyrdh leapt down and was standing on the surface of an alien world.   She had walked some distance along the track gouged out by her careering life-craft when something unseen cuffed her off her feet and into the long grass.   As she lay, dazed, immense ivory sabre teeth pierced the collar of her environment suit and crushed the survival pack on her back.   She was lifted, dangling into the air and the gigantic monster that had her in its grip set off at a dash.   1Fnyrdh passed out.

She came round as she was dropped onto the cushioned floor of a vast chamber.   From the compromised state of her shredded environment suit she deduced that the alien atmosphere must be breathable.   It smelled acrid and she felt slightly light headed but her breathing was steady and nothing ached any more than she would expect after her recent rough treatment.   She rolled onto her back and looked up.   The creature standing over her was terrifying.   Superficially the beast resembled the Clrntz*n back home, only built on a totally different scale.   It was six times her height, maybe more, a hundred times her bulk, with golden eyes and a covering of fur striped in shades of sandy orange.   Its belly fur was white and it was displaying a lethal armoury of claws and teeth.   1Fnyrdh leapt up and ran.   She was fast in this strange atmosphere, but so was the beast.   As she zigzagged to avoid the slashing claws she neared a long, low cave.   She threw herself at it and rolled beneath the overhang, scrabbling quickly to the back.   An extended paw searched the cavern, but she managed to evade it and eventually her antagonist lost interest and withdrew.  

There was no way of telling if the automated distress signaller back on the Sunburst had got off a message before the ship broke up or if the one on the life-craft had been working at all - and, either way, little likelihood that a signal would be intercepted in the near future.    As spots went, this was a tight one.   Cautiously 1Fnyrdh surveyed the environment beyond her refuge.   The chamber covered an area greater than a snychb!ll pitch and was twice the height of a gy6 tower; these creatures may be aggressive, but they must have advanced technology and presumably a developed culture.   What had they been told in the lecture on first contact?   She unlocked the helmet from the collar of her environment suit and laid it to one side, then took a universal translator from the hip pouch of her suit, clipped it round her throat and switched it on.   Pulling out the receiver she plugged it into one ear, it crackled and emitted a high-pitched whistle.   She unstrapped it, banged it hard against the back wall of the shelter and tried again.   When she spoke into it, it seemed to be translating into something.   The creature had returned and was lying some distance from the cave mouth with one eye closed.   1Fnyrdh reflected on the state of her suit and removed it; she had better look as smart as possible for the occasion.   Then she moved warily into the open, ready to take cover again at the slightest movement on the part of the orange alien.   She drew a deep breath and shouted.

Tuesday 17 May 2011

A Ship's Cat



By the time they got back to Maldon Hythe there was pandemonium.   Ships were facing in all directions with hairy matelots  heaving on shore lines, brawny seafarers fending off with long boathooks called hitchers and the less competent  tasked with holding car tyre fenders between colliding hulls.   Everyone was shouting and more boats were arriving every moment, at speed, throwing lines ashore or dropping anchor to swing round.   The whole fleet was trying to tie up at the same time.   A crowd of landsmen ashore was enjoying the spectacle.
As each vessel was secured gangplanks were thrown out and the jostling, noisy multitude of seafarers headed for the Rotting Hulk Inn.   With Centaur made fast her crew also took off towards the ale house.   When Rich opened the hostelry door it was so crowded within that people fell out and the babbling cacophony hit them like a shock wave.   He and Potkin pushed through to the bar.   Everyone was laughing and clapping each other on the back.
After a while a bell was rung and all fell silent.   The commodore of the local yacht club gave a speech and the Lord Mayor presented prizes.   Centaur won a cup for the first boat home and Ironsides received one for being first across the line at the start, her skipper being far too wily to have been distracted by Absalom Rowbottom's dirty tricks.   Other boats received prizes for second and third place and everyone got a wooden shield for taking part.   Then the commodore said, “And finally we have a special prize for outstanding seamanship.”   He held up the award, a huge stuffed turbot in a glass case.   A brass plaque read:
Seamanship Prize
Awarded to POTKIN
Ship’s cat
Everyone cheered and threw their hats into the air.   All the crew wanted to congratulate Potkin.
With the prize giving at an end the ships’ crews gathered in a back room for the match supper.   There was jelly, steak and kidney pudding and party hats for all.   Moses Smith toasted the skipper and Potkin.   Then Absalom Rowbottom had their winner’s cup filled with an alcoholic cocktail of rum and whiskey, beer and pop, and passed it round the crew.   When he got to Potkin he said, “Well done.   We were lucky you came along.”
After the meal there was dancing and music.   A gnarled and ancient barge skipper, relic of the days in trade, was lofted onto the table and Heartsease Finbow sprang up beside him.   They launched enthusiastically into a song about a sailor called Barnacle Bill.
"Whose that knocking at my door?" she squealed in a forced falsetto.
"It's only me from over the sea I'm Barnacle Bill the sailor."   Everyone ranted and roared and joined in the chorus.
Late that night the crews drifted back to their ships and turned in.   Richard and Potkin went to their cabin.
“Well,” said Rich, “You’re a real sailor now.”
Potkin climbed wearily into his hammock and curled up.   Happily he purred himself to sleep, where he dreamed of desert islands in a turquoise sea, flying fish and albatrosses.   It was the dream of a true ship’s cat.