Star Kitten (36 page)

Razorback grinned and
nodded, clarifying the details, "And so you’re saying then… we go
home later, after Star Fleet has searched the whole galaxy for us?
Once they’ve exhausted their search, you mean?" The pig-like
Captain then added with a snarl, "That is… once your men and my
crew have drunk up all the liquor and—of course—enjoyed island life
to our heart's desire?" The rest of the crew on the bridge
snickered and chuckled lustfully. "Precisely, my Captain," said
Vlad. "Drop off the grid for a spell. Hide a while. Let the patrol
ships search everywhere. Go home to New Australia when the, er…
‘
coast is clear
’... as they say."

Razorback thought it over
a bit. Yes this was indeed a brilliant idea. In fact he'd
ironically thought of something very similar to this only a few
days before when he imagined the deadly dangerous race home;
perhaps being chased the whole way by unwanted pursuers. And what's
more even if they'd eluded Star Fleet patrol ships after the battle
at Star Pussy and flown for two weeks through deep space; who was
to say that Star Fleet might track
another
Naustie pirate ship from the
fleet back to New Australia? And what then, a pitched battle with
Star Fleet while defending their home base? Razorback feared this
most of all. He was nothing like Snout that was for sure. Razorback
was just a pirate captain, not a hero.

So, the two commanders
agreed: dropping out of sight for a while just made sense... just
like bank robbers after pulling off a big heist or bandits after a
successful train robbery! And that's precisely what they decided to
do with the
Warthog
. In a few days they could be cruising into orbit around
Frabrak 3, avoiding detection by Porkonji surface units. No raid
this time. They'd merely find a large island, on the stormy side of
the planet (which was lightly or even rarely populated) with a nice
valley they could secretly land in. If need be, they'd blast the
surface in the very center of the island near the base of a giant
dormant volcano and clear off a place to land.

Almost all islands on the planet Frabrak 3
were created by volcanic activity. All had some volcano or even
several volcanoes which had formed the island or chain of islands
around it. In fact, the whole planet five million years before, had
shifted its planetary core; and engulfed much of its surface in a
volcanic holocaust that eradicated most surface life. Not
surprisingly, earthquakes and tsunami tidal waves were still quite
common; and hurricanes could—and did—wipe out colonial outposts
periodically.

The
Warthog
was roughly the size of a
five story office building laying on one side. So when they finally
decided on an island a few days later after orbiting Frabrak 3,
Razorback's crew calculated they'd found the perfect location for
everyone on board. It had just about everything they were looking
for in a “vacation destination” as Captain Razorback snorted
humorously to General Vlad.

Basically the island had a
giant mountain in the very center, which towered upward into the
clouds above. At the very top of the mountain, which was actually a
ten thousand year old dormant volcano, it rained nearly every day;
and fresh water ran down the mountain in cascading waterfalls that
irrigated a large valley below with ponds, lakes and streams.
The
Warthog
fit
nicely in that valley, but no jet-firing ended up being necessary
to clear off a site for the landing. Turned out, Porkonji colonists
had tried farming the island many years before; and their original
farm plantation facilities were still there in ruins. Long
abandoned to the jungle, the plantation house was gutted and
overgrown with vines and vegetation but the fields which had been
cleared were still void of all trees. Thus
Warthog
was able to plop down on
relatively flat terrain and open its massive cargo bay doors with
ease.

As the ramp dramatically
descended and eventually settled down on the grassy island surface,
over a thousand Nausties and their exhausted prisoners gazed out
onto a world like few of them had ever even seen before. It was
nearly dusk at the time; and for many, their senses were simply
overwhelmed. The smell of the sea air, the odors of the jungle, and
the glare of natural sunlight were quite breathtaking for everyone
who’d been cooped up on space ships and space stations most all
their lives. Many... had literally never even seen a sun setting in
many years. Some, who’d grown up on space stations had never seen a
real sun at all! A few even wept with joy at the sheer beauty of
the scene unfolding before them, as they gazed out into the evening
sunlight and the towering mountain above them.

Porkonji colonists and
their field workers were all long gone by now, yes indeed. But in
their absence, the plantation seemed to have been taken over by new
owners of a very different kind! Actually a breed of giant birds
roamed the island now; and when the
Warthog
landed; it fried to death
about 13 of the beasts grazing on the site of the old plantation
fields. Roasting carcasses were strewn all around the sixteen
support legs and twenty-four propulsion jets of the large
spacecraft; and everyone soon took notice of the grizzly sight; as
well as the odor of burning flesh and feathers. Captain Razorback
looked at the smoldering bodies of these birds and remarked, "Not
too bright are they?" Many in the crowd chuckled. Apparently the
birds—which stood over four and in some cases nearly five feet
tall—had just stared at the sky mesmerized until the descending
craft's jet engines incinerated them.

Off in the distance
Razorback could hear the rest of the flock gobbling and chortling.
A pack of about fifteen of them caught Razorback's eye in a nearby
clearing. He threw up his hands to try and scare them off; but they
just glared at him. "I don't think our hosts are very pleased with
us landing on their feeding grounds...," he snorted. Again everyone
around him laughed. At least from far away, the big birds
seemed
quite
harmless
….

Next morning all the female and male
prisoners were generously set free; and the troops of Arian Knights
Brigade as well as half the crew and all the Pumalar marines were
also let out to go enjoy some well-earned “shore leave” on the
beaches. The remainder of the crew (mostly Porkos) remained as a
small garrison to protect the craft... but even they after a while
abandoned their posts on occasion to go out and enjoy island life.
Captain Razorback figured he’d keep a small staff in the craft at
all times; which functioned as a Commissary basically handing out
food and tools. Eventually its task became more of just managing
the distribution of liquor.

True, Vlad had indeed instructed all his
troops—and their prisoners—to just go enjoy the island to the
fullest until Star fleet had forgotten them (or the liquor ran
out). But to the Commissary staff he clarified this order
specifically as follows, "One bottle... per person... per week. No
more than that. Alcohol you see, takes a long time to kill a man...
but it's always much quicker than he thinks it's going to be. Trust
me on that... I'm a Russian!" Then he gave that trademark grin that
everyone had come to recognize (eyes squinting and face twitched to
one side).

The Arian Knights, Pumalar marines, and all
the human prisoners went right out to go enjoy the sandy beaches of
their new island refuge. The most hospitable tropical sunny beach
was within a mile from the landing site. They grabbed up bottles
and cases of booze, some took simple hand tools; and everyone
grabbed blankets to roll everything up with and hoist over their
shoulders. That's all they took, besides maybe a jug of fresh water
for the first day or two. Otherwise, they decided they were going
to go out there and "rough it". Fully fifteen hundred made their
way toward the beach that first day; and even a hundred or so
Pumalars went with them. It was for most all of them the first time
they'd ever even been on a real beach, too… the first time many of
them had ever dangled their toes in an ocean. It was the first time
they'd frolicked in the frothy waves of ocean surf, or actually
felt real sunlight on their naked skin. Many got tanned, sunburned,
and even very sick after only a single day in the heat; but no one
complained. They just passed out in the shade and awakened later to
do it all over again.

In the mornings, it rained for over half an
hour, every day, and they could just drink water right off the
large tree leaves in the jungle. It was indeed an island paradise.
They built huts out of leaves and twigs and bamboo-like beams which
they hewed from the forest around them. Earthers made surfboards
and canoes out of large trees using hand-axes.

An island society
gradually developed over the weeks, based on nothing more than a
live- and let-live philosophy. They formed communities, settled
disputes among themselves, formed parties to go hunt or gather
food, and shared everything equally in a communal society that
valued free speech, free expression and
especially
free love.

Oh how they played! The
Pumalars too! Beach life became for all of them like a freshman
student's first semester away at college... experimenting with the
independence and the freedoms—or pitfalls—of living with no real
supervision or regimented routine. However, at night it turned into
something more like
Spring Break
for college sophomores! Everyone seemed to want
to experience something new; or seemed so much more open to new
things. Nothing was too crazy or far-fetched. Everyone just seemed
to say, “Sure… why not?” every night.

The Pumalars became amazingly popular with
both the women and even some of the men captured off of Star Pussy.
In fact, when the Pumalars set up their own “Lodge” just inside the
tree line along the beach... it became quite a popular place to go
for partying at night. They worked for days constructing it:
basically a giant canopy that kept the morning rain off them; and
lava rock barriers stacked up around it connected to the trees to
keep out rodents and small lizards at night. Some of the women
really enjoyed the company of the Pumalars; while others found them
to be far too rough. But they all just had to try a night in the
“harem” with the big cats just to see what they’d been missing.

And as for the gay men from Star Pussy who'd
been with Pumalar customers back on the space station? There were
quite a few of them who tried working their way into the Pumalar
"Harems" each night too. Oddly, the Pumalar warriors didn't mind a
bit. They had little if any compunction any more about having
relations with a human male... especially the quite clean,
clear-skinned, tanned, and muscular bronzed bodies of the former
"gladiators" of Star Pussy's Roman Coliseum attraction. To the
hardened Pumalar warriors, these were basically no different than
women. More fun than some of them. They embraced the males who came
to their parties often just as enthusiastically as the females; and
everyone had a most splendid time night after night after night as
well as on into the early morning dawn some days.

Vlad built himself a nice hut; and for his
own part Vlad spent most of his conscious hours just enjoying his
captured slave boy Phillip (along with a case of Vodka of course)
and the occasional cameo appearance at local parties. Otherwise, he
just slept in his thatched hut… sent Phillip out for breakfast each
morning while Vlad slept peacefully in a hammock made from vines
and thick jungle leaves. When Vlad would pass out drunk (each
night, usually) Phillip just snuck over to the Pumalar lodge. But
no one dared tell Vlad. Again… the attitude was always, “live- and
let-live.”

Bitter disputes were rare.
Accidental deaths? Well, those happened infrequently of course… and
usually due to carelessness or drunken stupidity.
Fighting
however was
quite common! But then again it always was that way back on New
Australia. It was just an accepted way to settle minor differences
in the culture of the Arian Knights, and it was usually harmless.
Vlad set up a mock court for trying individuals and meting out
punishment but it wasn't really necessary. More of a joke really…
more like a Kangaroo court than a real justice system. Real
disputes were settled in the traditional Pumalar way of dueling,
whether it was females or males who might be the confronting
parties. But no weapons were allowed. The two combatants would just
beat each other senseless until one decided to yield; and then
everyone would laugh, drink, dance, sing, or go off to make love
some more.

Over half these “duels” were about jealousy
over a lover. Otherwise there was nothing really to argue about.
Food was plentiful. In the interior were large fishing ponds for
the Pumalars to get raw fish to eat. In the ocean it was possible
to hook big game fish and harvest crabs or lobster. Pumalars were
afraid of the ocean and wouldn't go near it, but humans made canoes
and even crafted nets for scooping out schools of exotic fish to
eat. Men and women even surfed the waves using carved surf boards.
Booze was plentiful too of course; but after a while few really
even needed it. Really it was just a peaceful island existence that
many found to be both spiritually soothing and
stress-relieving.

Meanwhile, there were those big
Cassowary-like birds which roamed the island in large flocks. These
were easy to catch and hunt down with spears by squads of humans in
the interior valleys of the island. Within a few nights of landing,
almost every camp fire was roasting a wild giant Cassowary on a
rotating spit, or even serving their eggs for breakfast in the
morning with fresh fruit. Essentially the birds had faced no
natural predators since the Porkonji colonists had left, so it was
easy to kill them at close range with daggers strapped to
bamboo-like poles. One roasted giant wild Cassowary could easily
feed fifty people in an evening.