Killer Kittens from Outer Space- Chapter Twenty Six

The cheerful pastel art did little to lighten Tommy’s mood as he stood with his hand hovering for the third time over the knob to the ex-community center’s rec room. One of the drawings, of a tiny man in armour being roasted alive by a bright green blob of a dragon drew his attention. He couldn’t help but feel like he might have rathered facing down a dragon of his own if it meant avoiding what was to come. At least a giant fire-breathing lizard would have been more straightforward.

“Stop fucking about in the corridor already!” a rough voice called from inside, and Tommy startled. “If you’re going to come in, then do it!” He glanced up to see the beady eye of a tiny, concealed camera staring down at him from above the door.

Well, let’s get this over with then.

Seamus was the only one in the room, which came as some relief. The man didn’t look up from the television as Tommy entered. On the screen was a rerun of an old AFL game, a sport that Tommy didn’t pretend to understand even though Robert had tried his best to teach it on more than one occasion.

“Seamus—” he began, but the man held up a hand, still without looking at him.

“I thought I was pretty clear last time we spoke,” he said. “If you’re here because you’ve changed your mind, you can forget it. We need people with conviction. You clearly lack that, given how you can hardly bring yourself to open the same door you closed.”

“I know but—"

“But nothing. I said we’re done.” He finally broke eye contact with the screen to look over at where Tommy was standing just inside the doorway. When the younger man still didn’t leave, a scowl broke across the one-legged man’s face. “Look, just get lost, would you? I’m busy.”

Tommy glanced over to the screen as one of the players lined up for a free kick near the goalposts. “You don’t look busy.”

Seamus snorted and turned back to the game. “Hmmph. I went to see this game with my son. There’s a frame coming up in the fourth quarter where you can see us on screen, right when Collingwood scores the game-winner. Any other smart comments you want to make before you get the fuck out or are you going to let me wallow in peace?”

Tommy’s eyes found the ground. “Look, my foster family’s in trouble, okay? I wouldn’t have come back if it wasn’t serious. I don’t have many options here.”

“Word to the wise mate,” Seamus said, as he watched the ball sail between the central posts. “If you’re going to burn a bridge, it better not be the one you need a week later. Consider that a life lesson.”

Tommy’s ears reddened, heat creeping its way down the back of his neck. “Please. Just hear me out.”

Seamus kept his eyes on the screen, then sighed deeply as a whistle sounded. He slapped the remote down on the leather couch with a sharp thwack. “You’ve got until the end of quarter-time to finish talking. After that, if I still don’t like what I hear, I’m going to call Jordan in here to carry you out, and he won’t be as gentle about it as he is with me.”

“So here’s the thing…” Once Tommy started talking it was hard to stop, and the words came pouring out of him like a sieve. It didn’t take long to fill Seamus in, but once he was done, he felt like he’d run a marathon, his breaths were short and haggard, and the back of his neck was slick with sweat.

“So I don’t know what I’m going to do,” he finished, glancing up through straggly loose strands of hair at Seamus, who still hadn’t looked at him. “We only just got our shit together; we can’t leave town now.” He looked away again, feeling as low as the rug beneath Seamus’s feet. “I wondered if I should just report them to the Imperium, but that would probably just make things worse. I thought maybe you could just tell them that I work for you and that we’ll tell the aliens to keep clear of the steakhouse next time we see them.”

Seamus sighed again as the players sipped from bright green and orange Gatorade bottles. “This steakhouse, it’s the one near the football club in Sunshine West, yeah? With the green signage?”

“Yeah,” Tommy’s head stayed down as Seamus cursed loudly.

“I’d ask how the fuck you managed to stick your head so deep in shit that your elbows stank, but I get the feeling any answer you give would just lead to more questions,” Seamus tapped a finger against the armrest of the leather couch. “These wrinklies you’ve been hanging out with, you said they weren’t soldiers. They civilians, or what?”

Tommy shifted uncomfortably. “They said they’re private contractors. They came in with the first fleet and they’ve been stuck here ever since. The Imperium stopped them from leaving.”

“They heading home anytime soon?”

“I think one of them said something about being here for another month.”

“That’s a yes then,” Seamus scratched at his chin, considering. “You get in good with them? You said at least one of them was showing interest in you, yeah?”

Tommy bristled, fighting for control of his expression. “We just played some video games. Like I said, I wasn’t by choice, they just—"

“Shut up,” Seamus interrupted him again, his brow furrowed. Then with a grunt, he reached across the couch to pick up the remote again and paused the playback. Finally turning to Tommy, he stared for a moment, then sighed.

“Here’s how this is going to work,” he said bluntly. “I’m going to make a phone call. If it goes well, I might be able to get your family off the hook.” He held up a hand as Tommy opened his mouth. “I’m not finished. If I do this for you, I’m going to need something in return.”

Tommy’s stomach churned, memories of their last conversation filling his head. He clenched his teeth. “Okay,” he said, curtly. “What do you need me to do?”

“No,” Seamus shook his head. “I’m done babying you, Tommy. You’ll find out what I need from you after I’ve pulled your arse out the fire. I’m either making this call or I’m not, so what’ll it be?”

It wasn’t much of a choice. Thoughts of Robert’s ashen face played back in his mind as if in crystal clear HD. They’d be ruined if they left now.

“Fine,” said Tommy, and a cold marble dropped to the bottom of his stomach like a gavel against a wooden block.

Seamus nodded. “That’s that then. Now get out. I’m going to make that call, and then I’m going to spend the rest of the afternoon regretting sticking my neck out for you. Honestly, I don’t know why I’d even consider it, I must be getting soft in my old age.” His eyes tracked across to the tiny picture frame on the bookshelf, where a smiling face was hidden behind the bushes of a brown bowl cut.

Tommy stood awkwardly, unsure what to say. “Thanks, Seamus,” he finally said.

“Fuck off,” the older man answered, “and get out.” Tommy didn’t need to be told again. As the crayon-covered door swung closed on his heels he breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever Seamus wanted, it had to be better than dealing with the mob of all things. It had to be.

Right?

---

Seamus waited for Tommy’s footsteps to fade before picking his phone up and dialing.

“Danny mate,” he said in greeting, before the other man could answer. “I need an introduction. You know the steakhouse on Glengala Road?”

“Seamus, what the fuck?” Danny’s voice grated on the other side of the line. “Why the hell would you want to hop in bed with the Ndrangheta? You know who these people are, right?”

“Never you mind what I want with them. You still sitting on that case of Buscemi il Rosso?”

“Of course,” Danny answered, exasperation creeping into his tone. “You know that’s a Sicilian wine, right?”

Seamus rolled his eyes. “Calabrian, Sicilian, so long as the wine is good what does it matter? All I need is a foot in the door, okay? Make it happen.”

“Fuck sake Seamus,” Danny sighed. “….Fine. I know a guy. Just… answer your phone when they call. Fuck.”

“Thanks Danny—” Seamus said, but the man had already hung up.

As he set the phone down again, a needle of air whistled through the gap in his front teeth. He leaned back into the couch and rubbed at the back of his neck. The first threads of a plan were beginning to weave themselves into an image in his mind, and he wrinkled his brow. Maybe, just maybe, he could turn this into something.

“Tommy, hmm?” he muttered, and he found himself staring again at the old picture of his son, taken on the day of his high school graduation. In it, the sun had just begun to dip below the fronds of the wide plane trees that lined their street, back when it had been their street, and not just a place he returned to each night to sleep. Kieran’s grin had been broad, open, and filled with excitement for a year of travel. “I’ve got a good feeling about you, kid. I think you’ll go far.”

---

Once the sleek grey hull of the She-Steps-Silently had slipped from the belly of the Imperial frigate and found clear space, Mirai glanced down the corridor at her new passengers. She was still slow at distinguishing between specific humans, but even if she’d been fresh off the new fleet there would have been no mistaking the woman she was relaying down to the surface. Her face had been plastered all over the fleet intranet the moment her interview had concluded.

The Imperium’s newest project had clearly seen better days; one side of her head was covered by a wound dressing, and she’d blinked owlishly at the bright red warning lights when they flashed to signal the crew to take their seats before takeoff. It wasn’t worth reading too deeply into, but the Garrison escort that had accompanied the human and her squadmates to the shuttle bay had also been odd. Maybe she’d been attacked?

Seems unlikely up here in orbit, Mirai pondered. Suppose there’s no harm in asking.

Once the schooner had left the proximity of the fleet, Mirai stood from the captain’s chair, cracking out her joints. She patted her helmswoman Talitha’s shoulder and made her way over to the passenger seating.

“…and you’re sure you’re feeling well?” she overheard the Ulu say.

“Just keep that bucket close,” the human replied with a low groan, and Mirai stepped back a little, her nose wrinkling. “Oh, hello,” the human added upon noticing her, and Mirai noticed the Specialist’s eyes flick to the insignia on her lapel. “You must be our pilot. Thank you for flying us at such short notice.”

“Not a bother,” Mirai answered with a slight bow. “I can see you’re injured,” she observed. “I just wanted to let you know that I have general painkillers and anti-nausea medications if you need them. All over-the-counter stuff, and safe for humans. It might only be a short flight, but they’re fast acting and effective. Worth taking if you’re at all uncomfortable.”

“I’ll pull through,” the human smiled thinly back. “No offense, but I’m a bit wary of alien medication. It’s just a bump on the head and some airsickness. I’ll be fine.” The ship jostled a little as the flight computer switched between low and full burn, and the human’s face went a notch paler. “Urp.”

“You do know you’ve booked yourself in for an interview first thing off the ship, right?” the ursinian sitting next to the human nudged her. “Maybe you should take something. You wouldn’t want to turn up looking a mess for the media to poke fun at.”

“Bit late for that,” grumbled the human, but her eyes darted up towards the ceiling in the way human eyes did when they were thinking. “You’re probably right though.” She turned back to Mirai. “I’ll take the anti-nausea stuff, thank you. I can handle a bit of pain, but it would probably be rude of me to throw up all over the reporter.”

“Valiir,” Mirai called, and the ensign’s ears stood to attention. “Fetch the specialist some water and nausea meds.” As the junior personnel scurried to obey, Mirai took a closer look at the three soldiers she was charged with transporting.

They seem comfortable together, she thought as she watched the human lean unconsciously into the ursinian’s shoulder. Still, I wonder how she came to be hurt?

“Here you are, ma’am,” Valiir nodded respectfully to the human and handed her a small canister of aerosol.

The can hissed when the human pushed the button on top, and after taking a deep breath of the stuff, her body visibly relaxed, and some colour crept back into her face. “Thank you,” Specialist Cardoso said with relief, sucking in another lungful of aerosol. When she looked up, her eyes were more alert and considering. “So our destination…”

“The new consulate?” Mirai prompted, glancing over her shoulder to the cockpit. Talitha noticed her look and held up ten plus eight fingers. Plenty of time until re-entry. “It’s still in the developing stages, but it’s quite comfortable.”

“I meant more the country in general,” the specialist laughed. “I’ve never been.”

Mirai scratched her head. Sometimes she forgot she was dealing with a planet-locked species. I suppose their countries would be quite different, given how long it would take to travel between them overland. “We’ve only been planetside for a week,” she shrugged. “The only thing I can say for sure is that it’s hot and the insects want to kill you.”

The human laughed. “It does have a bit of a reputation for weird and wonderful creatures. I was thinking more along the lines of food and entertainment though. It’s been a long time since I cut loose.” She grinned. “The brass wants me well rested, and I’m not about to let them down on that front.”

“I don’t know about entertainment, but there is one place I do know that does great food,” Mirai offered. “I think they were called steaks, yes? Large cuts of cooked meat, very high quality and delicious.”

“Steak?” the specialist’s eyes lit up, as did those of her squadmates at the mention of meat. The human swallowed hungrily. “That does sound good. I’m still sad about missing my barbecue… Where did you say this place was?”

“Not too far from the embassy,” Mirai grinned. “Hell, if you drive, I’ll spring for it. You humans are crazy, driving everywhere on four wheels the way you do. You’d be doing us a favour. I’m only paying for you though, your squadmates will have to afford their own.”

“Deal,” the specialist grinned, and as she flopped back into her seat her eyes shone with renewed vitality. “Damn, I’m looking forward to finally eating real food again.”

“Oh don’t you worry about that,” Mirai grinned “These steaks are to die for, I promise.”