The Furlites of Aroriel: Earth-bred, Matissia-born: Book II

By Marie J. S. Phillips

Young Murkuria discovers that the homeworld-bound Sunpyne harbors yet another stowaway. This time, it is the Human's lost pet cat, which is pregnant and dying from malnutrition. Murkuria succeeds in genetically altering the Earth cat's unborn zygotes so they can thrive on Aroriel's magnesium-rich foods.
Seven kittens -- born to surrogate mother Iggie the Matissia -- bond to and communicate telepathically with Furlites of their own choosing. These exotic smart treasures which Murkuria dubs Felakoons, endear themselves to the proud Clan, proving to be far more than mere pets.
However, as the Sunpyne and Sauri return from their first mission to the stars, anticipating awe, triumph, and glory, unexpected opposition to the new "alien" life throws the planet into strife and conflict such has not been seen in centuries.
Will the Felakoons earn a place in Furlitian society, or be sterilized, and die out as a species before have barely begun to live?
Some sexual content.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Nov 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9781304953384

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Illya’s Queen Felicia ripped open the tent door screening with two swipes of her huge paws, yowling her intense desire to the dark forest, ears alert for any male feline reply. Rocketing through the ragged hole, she ignored the desperate cries of her people and her canine companion, crying passionately, driven by uncontrollable instincts. She darted into the White Mountain wilderness, and the shouts behind her diminished with each leap she took. Her caterwauling drowned out her family’s voices as she headed down the mountainside.

For most of the night, she roamed the mountains, calling, announcing her presence and condition to all who might hear. Felicia received no answer to her desires until near dawn. Finally, an answering yowl penetrated the trees. Eagerly, she homed in on the cry, breaking from the forest into the small grassy yard of a building that stood dark, illuminated only by moonbeams slanting through the trees. The Maine Coon queen wailed again, and more answering yowls echoed in the clearing. In moments, to her utter delight, she found herself surrounded by possible suitors. They materialized out of the dark forest like hungry wraiths, all eager to fill her needs. They squabbled amongst each other, forming a loose circle, and, hissing and snarling, decided which one of them would approach.

Larger than most of them, Felicia easily warded off their amorous advances until she chose the toms she deemed worthy of her. The largest, a tuxedo male with gold eyes, sported an enormous bushy tail and a fine ruff, and he won her first. She accepted him with eager purrs. After the brief but intense copulation, a small brown tabby hurried forward as the big black and white backed away. Felicia rejected him immediately, choosing instead, a growling, big red shag. His copper eyes glowed in the moonshine as he eagerly accommodated her. The Maine Coon queen rolled on the damp ground in pleasure before calling again. A blue-and-white bi-color stepped up boldly, plume tail held high, blue eyes alight. She sniffed his thick long fur and accepted his advances.

Felicia rolled again, and a sleek black tom possessed the audacity to try a turn. With a wicked swat, she sent him squalling back into the circle. A small, shaggy very young tom stepped forward, and Felicia eyed his exotic coloring, dark points over a creamy tan. His dark blue eyes met hers, his chocolate-colored, tall, tufted ears quivering, his dark plume tail waving over his back like a furry flag. She accepted him, purring approval, dismissing his extreme youth.

Another thick-coated tom approached slowly, battling a ginger-colored rival. She eyed the silver tabby and sniffed his nose, hissing at the ginger tom. Once the silver tabby finished his service, she felt satisfied. Felicia allowed only the five handsome long-haired toms to mate her. The Queen of the show-ring instinctively knew her type, breeding only with the rugged, shaggy toms that in past generations founded her breed. In these boys ran the blood of her ancient ancestors, who once roamed this New England wilderness centuries before her birth. She sensed in each a kindred spirit, instinctively knowing fine kittens would come of this rendezvous.

Dawn lightened the eastern sky over the silhouette of the mountaintops. The males still sat in a circle, hoping for another chance. The sleek black tom approached, and, to her dismay, sneezed in her face. The audacity! She hissed, then whacked his head. He retreated hastily. The huge tuxedo suddenly lifted his head, hearing a distant call. His happy twitter filled the circle, and, bushy tail aloft, he set off. The exotic young tom followed the tuxedo male, his chocolate brown plume tail aloft. She listened, hearing the high whistle, not unlike the call her people often used to summon her canine companion, and her, if she were inclined to answer. This call, however, sent thoughts of her family into her mind. She meowed querulously, as all the tomcats watched her with lingering hope. Quite satiated, she no longer desired to mate, and thought of her people, wanting nothing more than to snuggle with her family. Suddenly, the underbrush around the yard rustled ominously. Reflexively, all the toms screamed and scattered, leaving her alone on the grass. Felicia turned, to see a canine rushing at her. In a micromoment, she realized the creature bearing down on her bore little resemblance to her canine friend. This beast raced in with malicious intent.

Hair bristling, the Maine Coon hissed, leaping aside. Like so many of her rugged breed, she found attack more effective than retreat. Her monstrous paw spread to reveal long dagger claws. She slashed the coyote’s long muzzle as he over-shot her. His yowl of pain echoed in the yard. The coyote shook his head, blood flowing from four wicked gashes across his face. Felicia hissed, snarling, her long coat bristling. The coyote eyed her, then turned away, melting into the forest. Felicia bolted, running as terror pounded her heart. Her people! Where were they? Oh, how she wanted to get back to them! She streaked through the forest, terrified and alone. The breeding frenzy now gone, panic flooded into the beautiful Maine Coon queen. She ran, until, finally, exhaustion slowed her to a furtive trot.

The sun rose over the mountain ridge as Felicia continued to move, afraid to call out to her family, afraid to stop and rest. Tired, hungry, and anxious, she kept moving, and walked the forest, searching. The brush nearby rustled. Reflexively, she bolted, exploding into a streak of golden brown, keeping low to the forest floor. Felicia slowed after a short time, finding she wanted to rest, but fear pushed her legs onward. She paused suddenly, sniffing the air, and meowed in confusion.

Turning sharply right, the Maine Coon cat ascended the rocky slope. At nightfall, she crossed the ridge. Wearily, she walked down the mountainside, wondering if the wind tricked her. Felicia thought she scented her family. By morning, she stood beside a thin stream, shaking herself every few minutes to rid her fur of drizzle that precipitated out of a leaden grey sky. Eagerly, she lapped the water, but anxiety kept her from the rest she craved. She shook her wet coat again, and sneezed convulsively as a wave of exhaustion washed over her. Oh, how much her warm bed would be welcome! Felicia wailed softly and sat back on her haunches, ears quivering with every sound.

The Maine Coon queen lifted her head, and, as if on its own, her head swung south. She suddenly knew that this was the way home! Deep instinct pulled her, and she knew she would find her people there. Crossing the stream, her trot full of purpose, she sneezed again, but ignored the fever that quivered her limbs. Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance, and she flattened her ears. She hated rain. She must get home. A sudden noise in the undergrowth at her heels shot terror into her very bone marrow. Her heart thudded against her ribs and she plowed into a thick patch of briars. The thorns mercilessly ripped out wads of her gorgeous coat.

An open door appeared in the middle of the wild land. It beckoned to her -- love, food, water, shelter, security. Felicia barely noticed the large creatures moving around the strange, enormous house. She sensed them to be people of a sort. Their talk floated to her ears. She darted for that dark portal, and raced up a ramp into the house, bounding up the huge metal steps, and furtively hurried along the corridor. Her claws scrabbled once on the smooth grey flooring, as Felicia searched for a hiding place to rest. At the first wide-open entrance, she paused, but noise pushed her onward.

Two closed doors later, a dark narrow hall beckoned to her. She scurried up it, and ahead she saw another barrier. No matter. This place would do. Suddenly, the portal opened, and her momentum carried her over the threshold. She halted with a scrabbling flurry of paws in a dimly-lit, small room. Strange scents assailed her nostrils. The door slid shut, and she spun, finding herself face-to-face with a strange green-and-white animal. Large green eyes blazed outrage from a long wedge-shaped head. A double set of fangs glittered from a long tapered muzzle. The Maine Coon queen hissed, growling, sinking her claws into the tough gold-colored carpeting. The animal glared at her, teeth bared, wings unfurled, white-and-green hair floating from trembling wings and a long whipping tail. The animal, obviously as shocked as she, uttered a staccato snarl, but, suddenly, the creature covered its fangs, and lifted its tall ears. The bright green eyes softened as the creature blinked, then stretched its long neck forward as it scented the air.

Felicia felt its jolt of surprise, as it uttered a soothing sound not unlike her own purr. Warily, she stared, and tentatively sniffed the air. Food! She meowed softly, and spied the half-full dish on the floor. She crept to the dish, watching the strange animal. The creature sat down and watched, purring, cocking its head, furling its wings. Felicia crouched at the dish, nibbling the food, and, finding it tasty, chewed in earnest. A sudden crash outside the door put springs in her paws. She leaped up and sideways, and dashed into the nearest dark hole, into feline bliss. Soft pillows and a litter box sat in the rear of the hole. She hunkered on the pillows, exhaustion trembling her muscles. Feeling secure, Felicia curled up, closed her eyes, then sneezed again as fever shivered her body.

When the noise subsided, the strange animal peeked into the den, and Felicia tensed, ready to fight for her new resting place. The creature, however, purred loudly, and carried food in its mouth. The Maine Coon suddenly felt like a kitten, filled with the need to be cared for, and this creature purred loud, filling her ears and soul with comfort. She returned the purr, and, as the creature dropped the food at her feet, she kneaded the cushions. Felicia felt inexplicably safe. Until her people came to find her, she would wait for them, here, in this place of safety and warmth.

Iggie jumped to the floor, flapping her good wing. The Matissia sat in front of the cabin door, eyeing the sensor irritably. She stretched her full length, but her claws fell short by octas. Chittering her frustration, she returned to the cot, and tried launching herself into the air. She flapped wildly, her injured but healing wing straining against the splints. Iggie turned in a wild, uncontrolled arc, and the door responded. Before she chirped her delight, something rushed into the room. The Matissia squawked in alarm, whirling to face the intruder as the door slid shut again. The creature, unlike any she had ever seen before, spun to face her, just as shocked. Iggie snarled, baring her eight fangs, unfurling her good wing. She met the animal’s gaze, and froze. Those golden eyes held her captive, and she scented the air in confusion. This was not Murkuria! Iggie covered her fangs and lifted her ears, sniffing urgently. This female creature just bred successfully. Kits would be arriving soon. That sure knowledge, along with those hauntingly familiar gold eyes, drained Iggie of all hostility. Maternal instincts flooded every fiber of her being.

The animal responded, and crept to the food. Iggie ignored the commotion outside the door. She heard swearing, and recognized the voices. The stranger, however, bolted, hiding in Iggie’s lair. Iggie sauntered to her dish and, picking up a meat strip, carried it into her den. The scared animal hunkered in her bed, but Iggie felt no territorial aggression. She only desired to protect this mother-to-be, as every Matissia female should.

The animal twittered plaintively, and Iggie crooned, as if to her own kits. The animal responded with a rumbling purr, and Iggie stared into those golden amber eyes. Every instinct screamed at her to help this strange female, and it mattered not that she belonged to another species. In some ways, the animal acted very Matissia-like, and that soothed any confusion in Iggie’s mind. Kits were on the way. Iggie did as her instincts instructed, feeding and protecting her new friend from any threat, real or perceived. She worked hard, doing her best, and though her new friend grew weaker instead of stronger, Iggie could not quell her instincts enough to ask for help from the one she trusted most in the universe.

CHAPTER ONE

Murkuria crouched on the gold carpeting of her cabin, gazing at her sister. Elara sat on the double bunk Murkuria shared with Rosus, twitching her white tail nervously. Elara’s aquamarine eyes, framed in a mask of short white fur, glimmered with shocked surprise. She shifted her furry saurian body forward.

Chafk, Elara swore softly. The splotch of dark russet surrounding her left eye crinkled as she frowned, and stared at the Feleeshakoon lying beside Murkuria. The alien creature rumbled a croon that vibrated its entire body. The exotic animal rubbed her head on Murkuria’s thigh, and Murkuria felt the Feleeshakoon’s trust, affection, and wistful longings. Murkuria stroked the black-and-gold fur of the animal’s back, fingering the red harness, knowing the Feleeshakoon desired her family.

She is so thin. I wonder how long she has been in there, Murkuria sighed. Blast Matissia maternal instincts. She glared at Iggie. You should have come to me.

Iggie only chittered, her tall triangular ears flattening at the disapproving tone.

Had to be right before we met the Humans. That was eight days ago, Elara commented. Their other pet, the Husky dog, knew she was here all along.

The poor thing. Murkuria replied. The Humans said they told the dog to find the Feleeshakoon.

And we all ignored him, Elara muttered.

I caught him, several times, trying to get into our cabin. When the Humans left the mountains, the dog did not want to leave. Iggie always drove him away, and attacked him that last day to make him go home. She was so vicious, too, Murkuria sighed. I should have known then something was going on, but Iggie’s box stunk so badly I was too embarrassed to let anyone in.

We all were quite otherwise occupied. Chafk, that had been a horrible illness, Elara grimaced. To think the Feleeshakoon carried it to us.

She suffered it, too, Murkuria corrected. Iggie carried it to us. Thank the cosmos we found out what it was in time, and that the serum Dr. Nusierus made killed it completely.

Agreed. Do not forget how the Humans helped us.

How can I ever forget? Murkuria swished her red-gold tail. Without their help, we may not have survived that awful sickness.

True. They helped Nusierus run Sickbay when everyone else lay ill.

And Fred knew what the virus was. They sure missed their pet. Elara sighed.

I wish I knew she hid here all those days. Murkuria glared at Iggie.

That toilet box reeked. Elara wrinkled up her face in disgust. The Feleeshakoon did her share to stink it up.

"At least it is clean now, even if it took me a full quat¹ to do it. I have to take the dirty stuff to be tested for the virus before it goes into the waste. Murkuria gestured at a sealed container of absorbent pellets. The one spot on this ship not disinfected to the billionth degree before launch was this locker. Thank you for helping me disinfect everything, including the Feleeshakoon."

She took it very well. Better than Iggie. Elara laughed. She hated it. The recycling system should purge any virus in that waste, but it was wise to decontam it all first.

Yes.

Did Dr. Nusierus ask you why you wanted that portable Decontam pack? Elara pointed at the contraption at the foot of the bunk.

I asked Vulcus for it. Murkuria flicked her long-furred red-gold tail. He asked me why I wanted it. I said I wanted to make sure Iggie’s fur was clean. After all, the nasty old-fashioned disinfecting solution Nusierus made us use on everything cannot be used on us, Iggie, or even the Feleeshakoon.

You are right, but along with external decontam, she does need inoculation.

I know. I plan to get some hyponeedles from Vulcus.

Good idea. Elara leaned over to run her hand over the Feleeshakoon. Despite her sharing Iggie’s food, she does feel thin.

I wish I knew why Iggie kept filling my mind with images of kits. Iggie is not pregnant. Murkuria glanced at the Matissia, who crooned softly, resting beside her new friend. Iggie suddenly sat up, chirping loudly, and stared at Murkuria.

Iggie, what is . . . ? Murkuria trailed off, as the unmistakable strong image filled her inner vision. The Feleeshakoon rested on her side, nursing Matissia kits. Murkuria gaped.

What is it? Elara grabbed Murkuria’s shoulder.

It is not Iggie who is pregnant. She is! Murkuria pointed at the Feleeshakoon. Remember, Fred said she was near going into season when they arrived in the mountains?

Pregnant? Elara responded sharply. Are you sure?

That explains so much. It explains why Iggie has treated her like a fellow female Matissia. Murkuria scowled. Just because the Feleeshakoon has eyes like mine is not a good enough reason for Iggie to protect her like this.

I am sure that helped some. Elara exhaled slowly. If Iggie fed her so much of her rations, why is the poor thing so thin?

Remember the food discovery I made? Murkuria brightened at the sudden insight. We now know it is true. Our food lacks the calcium amounts Earth-life needs. I am sure the high magnesium levels we require are not helping her either.

She cannot come home with us then, Elara stated.

No. Murkuria frowned. We cannot keep her away from her family. Karl was so upset, and his parents were, too. We must take her back to them. They helped us fight the illness.

Without their help, who knows what might have happened to us.

We do owe them. But . . . Murkuria paused. Father is going to blow a gasket over this.

Best not to delay, Elara said. We will be out of the system in less than a day. Elara glanced at her timepiece. "It has been four quats since we left that planet. Tesuris and I must rest before he needs to be at the Helm. In six octiens,² we reach that Asteroid Belt. Then, we are supposed to have a sleep period before rendevous, and engage the stardrive afterwards."

I know. I have been with Thorius most of that time, or worked in the Lab with extra clean-up, until I went off-duty and saw you in the hall, Murkuria sighed. Please, do not tell. I will, but I would like to help her get her strength back. She will need it.

Have it your way, but do not wait too long. A six or seven octien trip back is not bad, but waiting until after we go into stardrive might infuriate Father. He may refuse. Elara rose to her feet. I plan to sleep, and perhaps a tryst or two with my spouse. It has been a long work shift. Good sleep, Murkuria.

You, too, Murkuria mumbled, then raised her voice. Wait!

Elara halted, and looked back.

You should run decontam again on yourself, just to be safe.

All right, Elara walked back to the bunk, and operated the pack. She quickly ran through the procedure, then rose to her feet. Time for me to see my spouse.

Thank you, Murkuria said, as Elara left the cabin. She stroked the crooning Feleeshakoon. I will not let you die aboard our ship. I give you my word that you will go home.

Elara trotted up the corridor to her cabin. She ran her hands along the walls, noting how the panels shone white and the curved steel girders sparkled, with not a speck of soot left from the crash-landing. She gazed up the hall at the clean grey decking. Her talons clicked on the floor as she entered her cabin, finding her spouse Tesuris already there. He lounged on their double bunk, cuddled into the black cushioning, his long, predominantly-gold coat silky from recent bathing. He looked up from his reading, his eyes crinkling into a smile. Elara grinned, always smitten by those sparking cobalt-blue depths. Tesuris put down his electronic book.

I thought you would already be here. He smiled, reaching for her hand. She let him pull her to the cot, barely noticing the heat of his palm. I know you needed the same. I have been waiting for almost half a quat. Smug pride rang in Tesuris’ voice. The ship is running very well.

I am sorry. I had to help Murkuria.

Oh. No matter. I am very glad to see you. He pulled her hard against him, and she sensed his rising passion. Her body responded as her chava undulated at the touch of his folo. He burned against her abdomen, and warmth sprouted deep in her loins. Her mind wandered to the alien creature in the next cabin.

Her body, however, continued to react to Tesuris, and as he penetrated, she moaned with pleasure. He stroked, but only part of her experienced the scorching burn that brought her to her peak. Her mind floated, as if in a dream. He climaxed, and the scalding flood that normally drove her into the stratosphere in delirious pleasure trickled lukewarm into her. She climaxed, the sensations feeble and shallow. The Feleeshakoon haunted her thoughts. She flopped on the cot, pulling him free of her.

Elara?

What?

Are you all right? Tesuris asked.

Yes. She met his gaze, seeing the unease glinting in the depths of those exquisite eyes the color of the finest cobalt glassware. He deflated and retracted so fast that she wondered if the tryst really occurred.

You seem a million light years away. He frowned. I know you barely climaxed. Elara, what is it?

Chafk, Elara swore softly, and sighed. I am so sorry. I did not expect it to bother me so much, but, well, I guess you will find out soon enough, so I will have to tell you.

About what? Tesuris stiffened.

I was helping Murkuria, which I did, but . . .

But what? Tesuris grabbed her arm. You are scaring me!

Do not worry. She smiled, sending a pulse of love up his arm as she returned his grip. We have no bond problems. My mind was definitely elsewhere, but my body responded fine, no?

Yes, I suppose. Tesuris regarded her, concern flickering in his eyes.

Well, we found out why Iggie appeared to be caching.

Appeared to be? Tesuris raised a furry brow.

She was protecting and caring for a pregnant female animal, adopting it as another Matissia. Elara smiled weakly. I guess she does miss her own kind.

What animal?

It is the Feleeshakoon.

WHAT! Tesuris sat bolt upright. The Humans’ lost cat animal?

The very same.

Are you sure? Did you see it?

Absolutely.

What are you going to do? The Ship Commander should know.

I know, but Murkuria wants to tell him. The poor thing is faring very poorly on our food. If she stays aboard, she dies.

"She should go back -- before we rendevous with the Sauri, and punch up the stardrive, Tesuris groaned. Your father is not going to like the idea."

No doubt. Elara flicked her tail. But that is my sister’s problem now.

Right. Tesuris took her hand, pressing his palm to hers, letting the rising heat sear into her hand. Let her worry about telling your father.

I feel immeasurably better. Elara clutched his other hand, allowing him to pull her close. He engorged, burning the thinly-furred area of her abdomen, and a tidal wave of desire exploded from her loins. Her tail lashed, and she growled, sitting up, pulling him to her so swiftly he yelped. She pressed hard against him, gyrating her hips. He scorched against her sensitive chava, and she moved abruptly, forcing hard, fast penetration. He yelped again, but growled with sudden pleasure. He grabbed her haunches, and she did likewise. The bunk bounced from their exertions, adding to the motion. They rocked, up and down, to and fro, and the burn melted her insides. The pleasure drove her mad with desire. This promised to make up for their last pathetic excuse for trysting.

This time, she growled low into his ear, we will do this proper!

He answered with a guttural snarl, and his thrusts matched hers. As they reached and enjoyed the long climax, both forgot completely about the Feleeshakoon.

Murkuria walked into Sickbay, glancing around the spotless room. Everything from the grey deck, to the white paneled walls, to the steel support girders, to the medical equipment gleamed as if new. She saw the dark-copper-furred doctor standing beside a lab table. Murkuria headed over to Nusierus, carrying the waste from Iggie’s toilet box.

Doctor? she queried, halting in front of the Sunpyne’s Head Physician, putting the sealed container on the lab bench.

Murkuria? Nusierus regarded her with piercing indigo eyes out of a white mask.

I finished cleaning Iggie’s box, and disinfecting the locker. I thought you might want to test this for the virus before we throw it in the recycling system.

Good thinking, Nusierus took the container.

Could I have inoculations for myself, Rosus, and Iggie? Just to be safe, after stirring up that box?

That is not a bad idea. Nusierus turned to his bench and picked out two clean hyponeedles. This is a stronger version, so all three of you will get a half dose. Nusierus held one up. I have set it to half dose. Can you see how I set the control?

Yes, Murkuria answered.

Now, Iggie will need about a tenth of that amount. Nusierus held the hypoinjector out. You push this into the muscle, gently, and hit this button. Then press this sterilization button so the injector cleans itself before using it again. Do you understand?

Yes, Sir, Murkuria said, as he handed her a sturdy plastic box which carried the hyponeedles in stiff individual reusable packets.

Though I am sure we all are immune now, I wish to kill any lurking clusters. Nusierus gazed at her. Are you sure you can do this?

Yes. I can see you are busy.

I am brewing a liquid form, to clean out anything that may lurk in the intestinal tract. Nusierus eyed the box. Are you sure you understand how to do this.

Yes, she smiled. Do not worry.

If one malfunctions, do not use it. Use the other. Understand?

Yes, Murkuria answered, and left Sickbay at a quick trot. She entered her cabin, and sat on her bunk. Placing the tip of the hypoinjector against her forearm through the short red-gold fur, she gave herself the first injection. Murkuria felt a slight prick as the hyponeedle hissed, then pumped the serum into her body. She obediently pressed the controls, and the hyponeedle spat a puff of mist and air. The indicator light turned from a warning yellow to blue.

Iggie, Feleesha! she called.

Iggie chirped, then flew out of the locker. The Feleeshakoon followed, crooning that odd shuttlecraft purr deep in her chest as she leaped onto the bed. Murkuria pulled the Decontam pack to her side. She again cleaned the cat animal’s shoulder, where the hair lay shortest, with the combination laser and liquid spray decontamination nozzle. The Feleeshakoon flattened her ears, but watched Murkuria with trust in her eyes. Murkuria took the hyponeedle and adjusted it to an Iggie-sized dose, then gently injected the cat animal. Feleesha growled at the hissing needle, but resumed purring once it pulled free of her body. Murkuria repeated the procedure with Iggie, who uttered one snarl as the needle penetrated her flesh.

You are such a baby, Iggie. It does not hurt at all. Murkuria eyed the hypoinjector, pressing the sterilization control a third time.

Well, looks like Rosus will get his later, she murmured, and placed the hyponeedle into the medical box. She ran her hand over the Feleeshakoon’s broad skull. Murkuria used the Decontam pack again on both Iggie and Feleesha. She pulled out a short hose with a multi-holed nozzle.

Iggie snarled and squirmed as a fine mist coated her fur, blinked as the bright pink light passed over her body, and attempted to shake herself, but Murkuria restrained her. Murkuria combed the Matissia’s fur with a grooming rake attached to the Decontam pack by a hose. Warm air that tingled the nostrils with a sharp scent blew from the rake’s hollow tines into Iggie’s fur, drying it swiftly. Murkuria repeated the procedure on Feleesha who purred the entire time.

Iggie, you should behave so well, Murkuria admonished the Matissia. Iggie chirped, eyeing the Decontam pack warily. Murkuria sat up suddenly.

I know what to do with the extra dose. She grabbed the hyponeedle, and raced from the cabin. She hurried up the corridor, then rapped her talons on the door.

Enter, Elara’s voice called out, gravelly with sleep. Murkuria trotted in.

I must inoculate both of you.

Why? Tesuris jolted to full alert.

Elara was with me when I found the Feleeshakoon. Murkuria grinned at the apprehension in Tesuris’ cobalt gaze.

I will be quick, she assured them, then swiftly injected both of them, adjusting the dosages, carefully and properly sterilizing the hypoinjector between shots. Elara chuckled.

Good thinking.

Best to be safe than sorry, Murkuria replied. Have fun. I must go research how to give the Feleeshakoon proper nutrition.

Good luck, both called after her as she left the cabin.

Right now, we need to figure out what to feed you, Feleesha. Murkuria said upon entering her cabin. She sat on the bunk, sealed the Decontam pack closed, then opened her electronic notebook. A sheet of paper fell out of it onto the bed. Murkuria smiled at the drawing of a fur-less, long-muzzled bipedal carnivore she drew to the Human child  Karl’s specifications days ago.

No time for this now, she murmured, and put the printout aside, concentrating on her work.

Two octiens passed quickly. Murkuria sat on the cot, stroking the resting Feleeshakoon with one hand, typing into her notebook with the other. She worked, her brows knitted in concentration, until the noise from the next cabin threaded into her ears. She glared at the white wall paneling, as the sounds became quite audible. She laughed.

Listen to them, Iggie! Krufk! How many times is it now? Five? How are they doing it? Are they ever going to go to sleep? That bunk creaks worse than a busted Dokit hut door! She continued to giggle, hunched over her notes. She hoped they finished before Rosus arrived. She still thought sex hilarious, but she knew Rosus did not. His wistful reaction to any overheard trysting usually doused her mirth.

Unable to change the circumstances that shut down his sexual drive, he must wait until she matured, and, though she wanted to grow up more than almost anything, her maturity could not be rushed. Another price her kind paid for the wonder and joy of bonding, though bondbreak trauma, indeed, was the highest price of all. That agony dwarfed Rosus’ small frustrations into meaninglessness, but Murkuria knew just how much it bothered him at times. She suffered in her sympathy for him, with anger at her young age of thirteen, far too young for puberty. She knew he suffered more.

The noise next door finally ceased, and Murkuria sighed with relief. She returned to her notes, working over formulas for processed foods. She glanced at the little Feleeshakoon.

I do not know if I can do this. I may not be able to take out the magnesium, and I do not know where all the calcium will come from. Murkuria sighed. Perhaps I will have to sacrifice a few of those specimens we gathered for study. But the inoculation I got from Dr. Nusierus should make you feel better. It will kill the virus inside you.

The Feleeshakoon twittered, a call not unlike the chirruping Iggie often uttered. The Feleeshakoon gazed up at her. Murkuria smiled as the animal kneaded the cushion, rumbling deep in her chest. No animal she knew created that weird sound. Not quite a croon, but not a chitter, it sounded different from other calls a Matissia or any other creature used.

You purr like a racing shuttle, Murkuria said, amused. I will try to help you. But I must get Father to take you home. This will not . . .

The Feleeshakoon suddenly ceased purring, then uttered an unmistakable cry of distress. Murkuria felt a phantom pain ripple through her guts. Iggie chittered and trilled worriedly, unfurling her wings. The Feleeshakoon cried again, her pupils dilating. Murkuria examined the Feleeshakoon’s body and finally spotted a few drops of blood oozing from her vulva, staining the light gold fur red. Panic flooded Murkuria.

No! You cannot lose your babies! I will not let you lose them!

Murkuria scooped up the Feleeshakoon, cradling the animal carefully against her chest. The trusting creature wailed softly, and resumed purring. Their golden eyes met, and tears blurred Murkuria’s vision. The Feleeshakoon’s instinctive anxiety over the unborn kits cut into Murkuria, and Murkuria recalled the Human’s comments about their pet’s love of kits. Murkuria left the cabin at a swift trot.

I will save your babies, she sobbed. I will!

She carried the eight-octlo Feleeshakoon into Sickbay. Iggie fluttered, landing on Murkuria’s back as they hurried past the waiting area. The Matissia trilled anxiously. Murkuria rushed into the Medical Chamber, sparing a glance for her twin brother Thorius, who slept soundly on one of the beds, his mended broken leg in restraints. Vulcus stood on the opposite side, checking the bed monitors. Despite that lack of white on his face, Vulcus resembled his father Nusierus a great deal, in looks and temperament. The young doctor turned at the sound of her footfalls, startled, indigo-blue eyes widening in his solid dark copper face.

What is that? Murkuria! It could be infected!

Doctor! You must help us! Murkuria placed the Feleeshakoon on the nearest bed. I did full Decontam. It is the Humans’ lost pet. She has been hiding in our storage locker for almost half a cinth!³

So that is why you wanted the Decontam pack, Vulcus surmised, then flashed her a wry smile. And the Humans never found her?

Yes, I disinfected, and inoculated her. The Humans never found her because I kept them out of the cabin. It stunk, and Iggie attacked them every time they went near it. The animal is pregnant, but she is weak from lack of proper nutrition. Murkuria rushed her words. She is going to lose her kits! Help her, please!

Vulcus hurriedly activated the bed monitors, popping a back-up disk into a slot under the main monitor. He ran gentle white-furred hands over the creature, then waved a medical scanner carefully over the prone animal’s body. He looked up at the monitor. He read the results, frowning. She is in poor condition. She is lacking calcium, so much so I doubt we could muster up enough to help.

"What about the Dokit-like, long-eared, quadruped rodent specimens we kept?

Feeding her one would help some. But, right now, I must assess her condition. Vulcus examined the Feleeshakoon carefully. She watched him, with trust, and uttered a cry that sounded like reow? Vulcus’ frown deepened. You are right. She is going to abort. The zygotes are still alive, and quite viable. Seems supporting them has drained her tremendously.

Can we save them? Murkuria asked, panic flooding her heart. We cannot let them die!

We can put the healthy zygotes in stasis.

Please do it! Murkuria pleaded. She wants babies. I promised her I would save them -- and her!

The Feleeshakoon wailed mournfully, her pain stabbing into Murkuria’s very soul. She sobbed.

Murkuria, do not cry so, Vulcus said. I will do it! But you must assist. Can you?

Yes!

Murkuria watched, as Vulcus carefully sedated the Feleeshakoon, treating her like a Matissia patient. Indeed, she shared many traits with Matissias. Hope nibbled at Murkuria’s dread. She relaxed, and Iggie lay beside her new friend, grooming the Feleeshakoon’s broad skull.

All right. Wash your hands. Vulcus stepped back. I will activate one of the stasis machines.

His talons flashed over the controls, his eyes flitting to the readouts. Quickly, Murkuria cleansed her hands and arms to the elbows. The stasis machine hummed quietly, ready for its alien tenants. Vulcus donned surgical gloves, and indicated that Murkuria do likewise. She obeyed, and copied Vulcus as he washed down his ruff and chest with a large portable Decontam pack. As Murkuria dried her own fur with the Decontam rake, Vulcus retrieved seven small steep-sided dishes from the cubicles and laid them on top of the stasis compartments. Liquid, carefully brewed using information from the readouts on the monitor, shimmered in each. Vulcus gazed sternly at Murkuria.

Are you ready?

Yes, Sir! Murkuria pushed the Decontam pack away, and adjusted her gloves.

Now, as I extract each zygote, get it into that brine quickly, one per dish.

Yes, Doctor.

Here. Vulcus handed her a wide-mouth funnel. Use this for transference.

Yes, Doctor. She glanced at the funnel, quickly figuring out the workings of its closed bottom.

All right. Ready?

Yes.

Vulcus carefully inserted the thin, flexible tubing into the Feleeshakoon. She blinked lazily, aware only of Iggie’s mothering. Murkuria controlled the tremble in her hands as each tiny slip of alien life slid from the tube to her funnel. Careful not to touch the funnel bottom, she dipped it into the life-sustaining brine and released the first zygote. She glanced up at the monitor, watching Vulcus move the tubing with expert precision. Finally, the seventh and largest zygote slid into its new womb. Murkuria carefully placed each container inside the stasis machine. Vulcus checked the settings again, then nodded. Murkuria activated the machine, and it whirred softly, beginning its life-supporting task. She turned to the Feleeshakoon, and took off her gloves. She gently stroked the relaxed animal. Vulcus examined her again, and, smiling gently, took off his gloves.

The danger is past. You should feed her one of those specimens.

I am glad they did die after all, if they help her, Murkuria said.

She should be all right for a time, with no kits to drain her. Vulcus examined the medical readouts. That virus is in her, but is being wiped out at a high rate. She is the original carrier?

Yes, Murkuria answered. She gave it to Iggie, who carried it to us. I gave her an inoculation of the serum your father made from Iggie’s antibodies a few octiens ago.

That explains the swift eradication I see now. Vulcus chuckled. How did you wheedle my father into giving you some for her? He does not know about her.

I asked for Iggie, Rosus, and me. Murkuria shifted her weight from foot to foot with nervous tension. I decontamed her twice.

I am glad you did. She may have shed more virus, and, if it mutates at all, we have to start all over. Fortunately, I see no evidence of that, and none are hiding in the amniotic fluid. Her offspring are safe from the virus. It appears that this virus cannot penetrate the placenta.

Fred said it was not a very virulent strain of, Murkuria paused, searching her memory for the term, cat flu virus! That is what he called it."

That explains why the placenta protected the zygotes. The serum we created from Iggie’s antibodies is amazing. It gobbles the viruses up like starving beasts. But, he warned, eyeing Murkuria, "before we dare hook up with the Sauri, a few rounds of inoculations will be needed for everyone. My father is concocting one for the digestive system, just in case it lurks there. I doubt it, as it is a respiratory virus, but we must take no chances. Please make sure Iggie’s lair, toilet box, and dishes are completely disinfected."

I have done so. Murkuria nodded with a sigh. She must go back to her world.

To survive, yes. Tell me, does the Ship Commander know?

No, he does not, Murkuria murmured. I will tell him right away. We have no choice.

Indeed. Vulcus trotted into the Lab, returning swiftly with the carcass of a brown Dokit-like animal. Here. Take this. It should be quite fresh. It was in a Lab stasis cubicle.

Thank you. Murkuria eyed the creature, noting the stark differences between the alien rodent and the Dokits she knew so well. The long ears, the short-bobbed tail, the brown color, and the four-legged stance contrasted with a Dokit’s bipedal locomotion, its short rounded ears, its long thick tail, and its green maroon-striped fur. The two species shared only size and food preferences. Murkuria flicked her tail, and draped the creature across her back. Iggie, guard this please!

Chirping, Iggie fluttered to Murkuria’s back. She sniffed the body, and wrinkled her face in distaste. She placed her paws on it, just as the Feleeshakoon twittered eagerly. Iggie answered with a deep croon, and held tight to the body. Murkuria picked up the Feleeshakoon, then carried the animal back to her cabin, thanking Vulcus profusely as she left.

She hurried into the room, where Rosus sat on their bunk, buffing his talons. He turned, and shut off the buffer. Iggie’s happy crooning echoed sharply of the walls, as she dragged the carcass into the storage locker. Murkuria placed the Feleeshakoon on the floor, and, purring, the groggy Feleeshakoon followed Iggie. Shortly, Murkuria heard the unmistakable tearing of raw meat. She knew Iggie took care of her friend. Unable to break eye contact with her mate, Murkuria stood still and stared. Roses gaped, his emerald eyes wide, his short light gold fur bristling with shock.

Murkuria! Rosus finally asked. What was that?!

The Feleeshakoon. Murkuria sat on the bunk. She listened to the purring, crooning, and chewing as the Feleeshakoon ate the alien carcass. Rosus’ voice broke into her thoughts.

How long have you known about this?

Not long. I recruited Elara to help me clean Iggie’s toilet box, and that is when we found her. Murkuria could not keep the quiver from her voice. We decontamed and inoculated her. She just lost her kits. Vulcus took them from her before she could abort them. The zygotes are safe, for now. Iggie took care of her as if she were a fellow female Matissia. Murkuria felt tears threaten. Krufk! She hunkered in that locker for almost half a cinth. I had no idea! Now, she will die if we cannot get her back to her world.

Die?

Yes. Remember the study I did on foods?

Ah, yes, I do. Rosus eyed the locker. That is why you gave her one of those specimens. Rosus smiled weakly. Iggie does not seem to like it much. She made several faces, dragging that thing in there.

She must be able to detect the high calcium content. Murkuria flicked her tail. But, obviously, the Feleeshakoon is finding it quite tasty. Oddly enough, the Feleeshakoon ate Iggie’s food.

Iggie lay in the doorway of the locker, wings furled, watching her new friend eat.

I guess hunger drives one to eat anything remotely edible. I wonder what will happen once the Feleeshakoon’s hormone levels drop. Will Iggie still be friendly and protective?

Iggie’s relationships with other Matissias seem more mystery to me than fact, Rosus commented.

Her life beyond the house is a mystery to me, too. The only thing I know for sure is that she adores the big Flock King back home. How will she react upon returning home to find him gone? Wild Matissias rarely live beyond twenty years. Murkuria sighed. It will be weird for all of us, I suppose.

It will. Rosus frowned, then smiled, picking up the drawing Murkuria left on the bed.

It looks like a small naked earless Alcicis, but that is not what Karl called it.

He said it was a dino-saur, a Dein-Deinon-y-chus, I think. He said we are built like them, stand like then, and walk and run like them. He said Iggie looks like a tiny furry dra-gon, whatever that is.

I thought it was some sort of mythical creature for them. Rosus commented, and eyed the drawing, then his own physique. Yes, we do resemble these creatures, except we don’t have faces like an Alicicis or a Colatu.

Ours resemble the Humans’, but we have larger eyes and hair. Murkuria giggled. And not such protruding noses.

True, Rosus agreed with a grin, then frowned. I gather your father does not know about the cat animal yet.

No.

He is not going to like the idea of going back.

I know, but I have to speak to him. Murkuria stood up. And now is as good a time as any.

It is the best time. We reach that Asteroid Belt in four octiens, Rosus chuckled. Your mother should be with him. Perhaps that will help.

Very much. I will be back. Murkuria paused at the door. Keep an eye on them.

Rosus nodded, and Murkuria left the cabin. She heard Rosus’ talon buffer start up again, and she glanced down at her hands. She scowled. That rush from the Boulder Pool to escape the Human military wreaked havoc on her claws. One tip broken off, another cracked, and a few others notched. She sighed, hurrying up the corridor to her parents’ cabin. Time enough later for nail care. She halted in front of the closed door, and tapped the courtesy buzzer.

Enter! Her father’s voice echoed as the door slid back. To her relief, her mother, tending her talons, sat on the resilient gold carpeting common to all sleeping quarters aboard ship. Murkuria sighed inwardly. Everything reminded her of how horrible her claws looked and felt, but a more important task needed attention. She faced her father, who lounged on the black-cushioned bunk, his long predominantly-white, dark-gold-spotted coat impeccably groomed. His talons shone with recent care. Murkuria saw tranquility in his normally volatile purple eyes, and every one of the formidable muscles relaxed on his massive frame. She summoned up her courage, knowing what she must say now would fire up those eyes and tense that huge, powerful saurian body.

Father?

Murkuria? Geupetus propped himself up on an elbow, yawning. What is it? Is Thorius all right?

Yes. Murkuria paused, hearing the cessation of nail sanding. Out of her peripheral vision, she saw her mother stand up. Concern creased Nethunia’s brow, and glinted in those calm ultramarine blue eyes. Uh oh, Murkuria thought, struggling to control her seething emotions -- I forgot Mother would sense trouble!

Murkuria, what is it? Nethunia settled on the bunk she shared with Geupetus. Geupetus sat up abruptly, and, sure enough, sparks ignited purple flames in his eyes. Murkuria summoned every once of emotional fortitude. She must do this for the Feleeshakoon.

Elara and I, we, we found a stowaway.

Stowaway? Geupetus raised a brow.

Yes. We just found the Feleeshakoon in my cabin, hiding in Iggie’s little lair.

The cat animal?! Geupetus exploded. It is aboard my ship??!

Yes. Iggie hid her, and took care of her, as if she were a pregnant Matissia.

It is pregnant? Nethunia asked softly. Is it sick?

No longer, on both counts. I decontamed her twice, and inoculated her. She was going to abort, but Vulcus took the zygotes. They are in stasis. We gave the Feleeshakoon one of the specimens to eat. Murkuria’s voice rose as the words tumbled faster. We have to take her back! She will die, trying to live on our food.

I cannot believe this! Geupetus snarled, baring all eight eyeteeth. This animal was aboard all this time, and not one person saw her?

She hid in the locker. Iggie protected her.

And you never once looked inside, not even to clean Iggie’s box?

I did not! Things got so busy and we all got sick, and I just forgot. Elara and I just did so a few octiens ago. The Feleeshakoon is the reason Iggie was caching!

You had not a single clue? Iggie hid her even from your inquiry?

Yes! I did get fleeting jumbled images of the Feleeshakoon with Matissia kits, but I thought Iggie was just agitated. I thought perhaps she did see the Feleeshakoon outside the ship. Now, the images make sense.

Did you not press Iggie for clearer images? Nethunia asked.

Yes, but she would stare at me in confusion, and hide in that smelly locker. Father, I did not do this. I would never have tried to keep the Humans’ pet -- never! We owe our Human friends our lives. Please, they love her like I do Iggie! We have to take her back.

We cannot risk going back. Geupetus shook his head, his brows knitted in a furious scowl.

We cannot let her die! Murkuria fought her tears. I promised her I would save her and her babies. Father! She should be with her family.

What under the triple-blasted moons do you expect me to do -- land the ship in Fred’s backyard? Geupetus argued in fury. Oh, yes.‘Hello, Warjets! Just dropping off this cat animal!’

No! I know we cannot do that, Murkuria wailed with frustration. She fixed her gaze on her father’s scintillating purple eyes. "But I cannot let her die. The Sauri is here. They can help us. Please, Father!"

Geupetus. Nethunia put a hand on his back, stopping the angry words in his throat. She is right. The poor animal belongs on her world, with her family.

Nethunia, Geupetus growled.

Those people helped save our lives from that virus. They are our friends. We cannot let their beloved pet die because we are unwilling to take the risk of going back.

But . . .

Think. Nethunia stopped Geupetus’ protest. What if the situation were reversed, and, it was Iggie, or Terpus, trapped on Fred’s ship? What would you expect him to do?

The fire snuffed out in Geupetus’ eyes, and he smiled wryly at Nethunia. Murkuria sagged with relief. Leave it to her mother to get through to her father. Thank you, Mother, she thought. Nethunia smiled back, acknowledging the gratitude Murkuria radiated.. Murkuria waited as her father stared thoughtfully into space. Finally, his eyes leveled on her, free of any flicker of anger.

Perhaps you are right, Daughter. All right, we go back. He frowned slightly, his voice stern. This is your responsibility.

I have a preliminary plan. Murkuria’s panic turned to hope.

Let me hear it.

We can take her to those buildings on that mountaintop, close to where we crashed. What did Karl call it, uh, uh, um . . .

Mount Washington, Geupetus answered, shaking his head. That is not very wise.

But we could do this under cover of darkness. We could take a shuttle, which could slip in easier than a big ship. We could drop her at the buildings. A Human would find her, and return her to her family. She has that harness on, with her identification. Please, Father!

It does sound plausible, Geupetus nodded thoughtfully. I guess we now know where the virus that nearly killed us came from. Good thinking to inoculate and decontam her. All right, Daughter, I will agree to this.

Geupetus rose from the bunk, walking toward the intercom.

Midshipite Tesuris! Report to the Command Deck immediately, Geupetus sauntered out of the cabin, pausing briefly. He eyed Murkuria. Coming?

Yes, Sir! Murkuria hurried after him, aware that her mother followed. Relief washed away her anxieties. Nothing else mattered but helping the Feleeshakoon.

Tesuris jerked awake, feeling a sharp talon poke into his ribs. He groaned.

Finally. Elara stared down at him, groomed and ready to go.

Why did you wake me? It cannot be morning yet, he complained. Let me sleep! I am exhausted.

I know you are. Too much trysting, Elara chuckled. But you are dense. Father wants you on the Command Deck now!

Why? Tesuris sat up, hastily running a brush through his rumpled dark gold coat.

I think Murkuria convinced him to take the Feleeshakoon back.

Oh, great, Tesuris grumbled. Going back to that crazy planet?

Sure seems the unlikely answer, Elara grimaced. But my sister is right.

I know. Tesuris led her out of the cabin. I am just shocked she convinced the Ship Commander. Chafk, Elara, he still scares me, Tesuris chuckled. I guess childhood memories and impressions die hard.

The two young Furlites trotted swiftly up the corridor to the Command Deck. They hurried onto the Deck, taking their posts, walking into the middle of a heated conversation between the two Starship Commanders. The Sauri Commander’s visage glowered on the screen.

This is insane! Suria spat, her violet eyes glittering. Why must you return? It is too dangerous! We came here to rescue your furry asses and escort you home, not to let you go fly back to that dangerous planet.

We must bring the animal back. Geupetus argued with his aunt. It is not a specimen. It is a loved family pet, belonging to people who saved our furry butts from a fatal illness. She will die trying to live on our foods.

Then it dies! It is not worth the risk.

Would you say the same if it were the reverse, with Iggie trapped on an alien vessel?

Chafk! What a question! Suria exclaimed in outrage, her long predominantly-white fur bristling. The light-gold patch above her right eye twitched.

Answer it, Suria! Geupetus snapped. Suria glared back, silent. Murkuria stood horrified. The words pouring from her aunt stunned her.

Aunt Suria! Murkuria cried. You would not, would you?

Suria’s expression softened, but she said nothing. With a cry, Murkuria raced from the room, hurrying to her cabin. She scooped up the Feleeshakoon, leaving Iggie to fly after them. She burst onto the deck, laying the Feleeshakoon on the grey floor. Iggie squawked anxiously, alighting beside the Feleeshakoon. She promptly groomed the Feleeshakoon’s head, and both crooned loudly, the Feleeshakoon’s shuttlecraft-like purr drowning Iggie out.

Aunt Suria! Murkuria faced her grandaunt. Look at her! You cannot let her die, can you?

Murkuria . . . Suria started, trailing off suddenly. The Feleeshakoon gazed quizzically at the screen. Suria gaped. Murkuria smiled as those golden eyes melted her grandaunt’s heart. Suria sagged visibly, the fire leaving her eyes.

All right, all right! Suria lashed her tail, rubbing her temples. You win! We will help you.

Thank you, Aunt Suria, thank you! You will not regret this! Murkuria crouched