Book One - Chapter Twenty-Six: Meow or Never

“Should've scampered off when I had the chance,” Whipsteele wheezed.

“Oh, please. Like I was gonna let you sneak off my ship. Computer's been tracking your sorry ass since you set foot in the docking bay. We upgraded security after your last little visit.”

Whipsteele's eyes narrowed. “Then why didn't you just space me? Getting sentimental in your old age, Whisk?”

For a moment, something shifted in Whiskers' expression. The predator's mask slipped, revealing something almost... fond. Like an old photograph that brought back complicated memories of better times.

“Because I instructed the computer to ignore you and hide your trace.”

He hopped off Whipsteele's chest with feline grace, allowing the pirate to sit up and rub his throat. The man looked like he'd been wrestling with a tornado.

“Jack,” Whiskers said, and there was something different in his voice now. Warmer. “It's been too long.”

Whipsteele pushed himself to his feet, straightening his coat.

“Whiskers.” The name came out flat, neutral. “Still playing the diplomat, I see.”

A long pause. Waiting. The kind of silence that makes you count your own heartbeats.

I couldn't take it anymore. “So... you two know each other?”

They both scoffed. Like fucking teenagers caught smoking behind the gym.

More silence.

“So,” Jack said finally, “why didn't you space me when you realized I was here?”

Whiskers' ears twitched. “Oh, I wanted to. Believe me. But Jerry might actually need you.”

“I already told the kid—”

“That you're a worthless piece of shit who'd sell his own mother for spare parts.”

“That it was suicide.”

Beat.

“Jack.” Whiskers' voice went dead serious. “I'm calling in my mark.”

Jack laughed. “You think that's still good? You've hunted me across the galaxy for ten years, and now you wanna cash in some old favor? For him?” He jabbed a finger at me. “Fuck that, Whisk. I'm not dying for your pet human.”

“It's not about me. And it's not about you.”

“Then what the blazing void—”

“Kigel Four. It's happening.”

The words hit Jack like a plasma blast. His whole body went rigid.

“What the burning hell does this have to do with Kigel Four?” Jack looked gut-shot, his bravado evaporating like atmosphere through a hull breach. “How dare you bring that up.”

“You know I can't say too much.”

“Yeah, yeah, your little System pacts with the Council. But Kigel Four? That's a fucking low blow, Whisk. What does this...” He trailed off, color draining from his face. “Oh, space me sideways. You're not saying...” Jack's eyes went wide. “Stars and plasma, Whisk. That's one hell of a long shot. Even for you.”

Whiskers said nothing. Couldn't say a damn thing, bound by whatever System constraints kept his mouth welded shut.

Jack started pacing like a caged animal. “Kigel Four,” he muttered. “Fucking Kigel Four.”

He whipped around to face Whiskers. “You're talking about a coup.”

The word hung in the air like a loaded gun.

“Replace the Karens with... what? The Mewsari?” Jack's laugh was sharp, bitter. “You'd need humans on the council. Full membership. Voting rights.” His pacing picked up speed. “And if this goes sideways, which it will, that'll be it for you. Anyone who backs them loses everything. The Karens have been looking for an excuse to sanction you for decades.”

He stopped. Fixed Whiskers with a stare that could cut durasteel.

“Your old man's really gonna put his neck out for this?”

Whiskers' tail twitched once.

That was answer enough.

“Now or never, eh? Wild,” Jack said, running a hand through his hair. “Really fucking wild. The Karens have been squeezing you out for centuries.” He resumed pacing, faster now. “This is a gamble, but if it pays off... if you bring Earth in under your banner...”

He stopped dead. Pointed at Whiskers.

“You orchestrated this whole thing, didn't you?” Jack burst out laughing. “You sneaky little bastard.”

His eyes lit up like Christmas morning.

“I know you don't want the throne. Hell, you're what, eighth in line? But you are more like your father than you know.”

The laughter turned warm, nostalgic.

“All this time I'm thinking you're playing defense.” He grinned. “The Karens are gonna shit themselves.”

He leaned back against the wall.

“This is gonna be fucking poetry.”

Whiskers remained silent as the grave.

“Anyone wanna fill us in?” Riley said.

“Whiskers wants revenge for Kigel Four,” Jack said. “We all do. But he can't take on the Karens alone. And everyone else is too scared to back him.”

He started pacing again.

“So the Mewsari sponsor Earth for Council membership. If Jerry gets a seat, he votes with the Mewsari to bring down the Karens.” Jack's grin was sharp. “But if it fails, the Mewsari lose everything. To Sponsor is to accept Earth's fate as their own, to be held responsible for all charges brought against you. The Karens win.”

He stopped, looked at us.

“Problem is, the Karens control the votes. We need to flip two other species to our side.” His expression darkened. “And those fuckers are terrifying when they're pissed.”

He stopped mid-stride, turned to face us with the expression of a guy who'd just cracked the fucking Da Vinci Code. “The Gravethralls would want mineral rights. Earth might guarantee that. So that's the potential win. But the other two...” He shook his head. “They'll be the real challenge.”

“The Cerulians don't much like the Karens,” I said, remembering how Meylin's whiskers twitched every time Cassandra opened her mouth.

“Like them or not, they have an old alliance. Both factions are neck-deep in the slave trade. But if we could give them a leg up over the Karens...” Jack turned back to Whiskers. “You tricky son of a bitch. This is a huge risk, Whisk. If the Council doesn't approve, the Mewsari get sanctioned. No seat at the table. Or worse.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Are you really saying you'll take that risk?”

Whiskers said nothing.

Which was answer enough.

“What is Kigel Four?”

Jack spun around, eyes storm-dark and full of the kind of trouble that gets people killed. “If we are going to do this, you need to know something about the Karens. What you're really up against. Kigel Four was...”

He stopped mid-sentence. Brow furrowed. Gaze drifting sideways.

“Hey,” he said. “Is that a coffee machine?”

We all looked at it, startled by the abrupt change. “Would kill for a cup of earth joe. Got this splitting headach for days...”

I walked over in a bit of a daze from the shift. “Uh, yeah, but I think we'd need to hook it up to—”

I reached out to touch it.

The moment my skin made contact with the metal, my HUD went apeshit with light.

[BATTLE TECH DETECTED!]

[WOULD YOU LIKE TO ATTUNE TO BRASS WAR MACHINE?]

I jerked my hand back like the thing had grown fangs. “What the fuck?”