Killer Kittens from Outer Space

Chapter Three- Whispers of Sedition

Tommy (continued)

"So, how about the wrinklies? You spot any patterns? Weaknesses? How would you kill one?"

Tommy's eyes widened, and he glanced around. They were still the only ones in the room. "I'm not sure what you're talking about. What's this about the wrinklies?" he asked carefully.

"Don't worry; this room gets swept twice a day, and there are signal blockers up around the whole building. Part of our negotiations with the wrinklies in exchange for the occasional genetic sample."

"The WHAT?" Tommy almost sprang from the couch, but Seamus waved his hands dismissively.

"Strictly opt-in. You'll sign a waiver whenever you're ready, and I strongly advise you NOT to tick the part that gives them access to your sperm. Some men do it because they don't care, and honestly, if the pink bitches need samples so badly, they'd get their paws on them anyway. They want to play at civility now that there are eyes on Earth, and it gives us a card to play. Anyway, nothing you say or do here makes it back to them if you don't want it to."

Tommy sank back down, the back of his neck still flushed. "Samples. The fucking nerve."

"Believe me, I know. It's not like it's the worst thing they've done to us, but still." The older man leaned in, and when he spoke next, his eyes were like flint, sharp and dark. "So? How about it?"

"Like, their weaknesses? They have handguns that can burn holes in tanks and microscopic killing machines that can off you in seconds. I don't know if they have weaknesses."

"Think about it. Humour me."

"Okay... I saw one struggle to open a door once. It was windy outside, and there was something wrong with her suit that meant she had to brace her whole body against it to open it. When I used the same door, I almost broke it because I expected more resistance."

"So they aren't as strong as us." Seamus didn't phrase it like a question.

"I've seen video of their soldiers doing lots of physical training. But it's all body weight stuff. Maybe they're just really light, or used to lower gravity? But I don't think that matters much when their laser guns can lock onto you from across a football field, their suits give them super strength and they have personal force fields that can stop a .50cal."

"You think they rely overly on their tech then?"

"Sure, I guess. But like I said, it doesn't—"

"How about their behaviour? You picked up on the NeverNight boss' patterns the first time you played. What have you noticed about the wrinklies?"

"That they're total bitches."

Seamus laughed, but he was looking down the ridge of his nose at Tommy now, and his expression was complicated, like he was waiting for something. "How do you mean?"

"Seriously? I hardly ever go outside because the few times I have, they're constantly trying to get in my pants. Some of them might have the decency to keep it on the down low because they feel bad about the whole 'almost wiping out your entire species' thing, but they're all just a bunch of reverse incels. The more time goes on, the more comfortable they're getting too. It's usually just snide comments and them trying to get all buddy buddy, but I know a guy from my exchange school who got cornered by some off-duty officers at a bar in the city and—" Tommy broke off, the panic rising in his chest. He forced it down, along with his lunch. "It wasn't good."

"So they're physically weak, which means they rely overly on their equipment. They're also horndogs. That about sum it up?"

"I'd say that's about right."

"Okay. Back to my question. How would you go about killing one?"

The room around him contracted. Even with the assurance that they couldn't be listening, Tommy couldn't help but look over his shoulder, and he felt a bead of sweat roll down the back of his neck to soak into the soft cotton of his t-shirt. His lips moved without thinking. "I'd get them alone and without armour. Then hit them really hard with a shovel or something," he swallowed.

"Or something?"

"Or something," Tommy defended. "I dunno, something heavy. They have claws, and they're fast, so maybe you'd have to take them by surprise. But I doubt you'd get one alone and unarmoured unless..." his mouth ran dry.

"Unless?"

"Never mind."

Seamus' steady gaze held for a few more seconds, and then he leaned in conspiratorially. Taking one arm, he slung it over Tommy's shoulder. "Let me tell you about a little side project some of my buddies and I are working on. If you like the sound of it, I can introduce you to them. You might find that you like the idea."

---

Not long after, Tommy walked out into the sterile corridor again, his mind buzzing with new possibilities, waiver filled out. Following Seamus's directions, he went through a set of double doors and into a nondescript room. A series of brightly coloured doors on the far wall were fitted with toilet stall locks, all 'vacant'. The decision to come midweek had paid off, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Bad enough that he had to do what he was about to do; he sure as hell didn't need to feel like he had an audience or, worse, fellow participants.

Following urinal etiquette, he picked the room on the far left and knocked before entering. Inside was a simple vinyl seat— he shuddered a little; he'd be keeping his pants securely on—a wash basin, a television and a stack of physical media on a tiny coffee table next to a cup. He locked the door with a click of finality, then stood for a moment, taking it in.

Well, time to get this over with.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he leafed through the materials, pausing to snicker at the note attached to the table— in the event of spillage, please inform staff before returning magazines— then stopped in his tracks. Nestled amongst the classic Playboys and the more esoteric fetish mags was a stapled-together collection of the strange synthetic paper favoured by the Imperium. It was heavily defaced, covered in angry scrawling text from an assortment of pens and markers, but even so, it was abundantly clear what lay inside.

Kespan porn? I guess that's not so surprising he thought, then scowled. I bet this was part of their 'negotiations'. Still, he couldn't deny his curiosity, and thoughts of his long conversation with Seamus played back through his mind. I might as well see what that would look like.

He opened it. Surprisingly, the pages on the inside were mostly free of graffiti, with the defacement contained to the outside space of the pages, and he was immediately greeted with a full centrefold of a female Kespan, legs akimbo and tail raised to put everything on show. He couldn't help but stare. Huh, surprisingly normal looking. I'm still not about to get off to them. He closed the booklet and went with something safe and vanilla.

Twenty minutes later, feeling lighter in more ways than one, Tommy walked out of the cubicle, left his sample on a metal tray by the television and headed over to the low basin. Surprisingly, the conversation with Seamus had left him feeling a lot better. Saving the world aside, this whole exercise may have yielded something after all. Hell, maybe, just maybe, it would even give him a little of what he'd been craving since the Kespans arrived.

After washing his hands, he met his eyes in the mirror and paused. He hadn't always looked like that, had he? There were dark rings beneath his eyelids, and his brow was fixed into the same empty gaze that he'd seen on so many faces over the past year. He'd grown too, a little anyway, though he'd neglected the gym and was still on the skinnier side— he'd barely dared to leave the house for some time after the invasion, and he was so pale. Tentatively, he tried smiling, but he still looked like something out of a UNICEF magazine, hollow-eyed and ghoulish. Who'd have guessed that he'd ever need to practise smiling?

He spent the next ten minutes working on it, contorting his lips into expressions that slowly became more genuine looking and less like a twisted grimace. Once he was happy with his progress, he fixed it on like a jovial mask and exited the stall.

The receptionist looked up as he exited, her expression turning from sympathetic to surprised and then friendly as she noticed his apparent mood change.

"You met Seamus then?" she asked. "He has a way of making people feel better, doesn't he?"

"I did," Tommy replied, his smile building into something bordering on real. "He was very helpful."

"Oh, wonderful. Now, as you may know, your next mandatory appointment is scheduled for three months from now, which means you'll need to come in by December. Nothing I can do about that, I'm afraid."

"Actually, I was thinking I'd come more often," Tommy replied, then paused, a little mortified at the unintentional double entendre. "Um, I mean..."

The receptionist smiled encouragingly, which was somehow worse than any other response. He continued. "Say, maybe weekly? Saving the world and all that."

"You do whatever you feel is right for you, dearie. I've seen the propaganda and know that when you're young, it's easy to feel like everything rests on you, but your health comes first, okay? The pamphlets and TV ads aren't wrong per se, but we're not about to die off as a species any time soon."

"That's good to know, but I was kind of hoping to hang out with Seamus on the regular. Bars these days are... difficult places to talk."

"Didn't he tell you?" The receptionist blinked owlishly and then smiled. "Our recreation facilities are open from 9 am to 10 pm every day, and you don't need any other reason to visit. A part of our negotiations with the aliens was to create spaces for men to get away from all of that. If they give you trouble at the gate, or if any of them make comments, you talk to me about it, and I'll sort them out." She smiled, "I'm Linda, by the way. We didn't get much chance to introduce ourselves properly when you came in."

"Tommy", he replied and stuck out a hand, then paused, flushing. "I washed my hands, by the way."

She tittered, and her laugh was contagious as he chuckled as they shook hands. Then she glanced back at the front door, and her expression dropped. "It's lovely to meet you Tommy, but I should tell you that I expect a Kespan delegate to walk in here in about twenty minutes. They're only allowed in once a week and are usually punctual to a fault, but you probably don't want to deal with that here and now. We can chat more next time you're in."

"I'll clear out then. Tell Seamus I'll think about what he said."

The glass doors to the clinic closed behind him, and Tommy was once again faced with the imposing silhouette of the security checkpoint. This time the butterflies in his stomach were replaced by a curious sensation, hot and steady like piping liquid steel. He had a way forward now. To his surprise, the first few steps came easily, and then he was smiling again, his face fixed like a clown's face paint as he approached the Kespan standing at the booth.

"Hey there good looking." It was the same Kespan who'd taken his ID on the way in. He waited for the familiar fear to rise, for the anxiety to kick in. When it didn't, his smile only widened.

"Hey there yourself," he replied, and it was as if a stranger had spoken with his lips, like he was observing over his own shoulder as the conversation played out. "Mereeva was it? Sorry about before, I had... a lot on my mind."

"Finally!" the pink alien crowed as she turned briefly to one of her fellow guards, who raised an eyebrow at her in a strangely human-like gesture. "Hear that Anverleen? I got a friendly one!"

"Leave the human alone Mereeva, and remember what we're doing here", the other guard deadpanned, but Tommy caught the way she looked him over jealously— once, twice, three times before she rolled her eyes and went back to scanning her surroundings."

"Ah, let it go, you uptight bitch," Mereeva quibbled back, leering at Tommy with undisguised lechery. "Sorry about her. She is..." she tailed off, and her eyes ghosted over as the translator chip in her brain fed her information. "...a real stick in the mud? Is that the right phrase? How quaint. Anyway, you and I should get to know each other. You have my contact card; don't be a stranger."

"Another day, for sure," Tommy smiled hollowly at the alien and watched her eyes light up lasciviously. "I'm sure you're very busy with your duties."

"A human male with better sense than you, Mereeva," The other guard grunted. "No more flirting with the locals; you can fraternise on your own time."

"I'll look forward to it," Mereeva crooned, her tail coiling to almost brush the side of Tommy's face— it still took gargantuan effort not to flinch away from that. "Tomorrow then? I am off duty for the evening. Maybe we could—"

"Ah, not tomorrow, sorry," Tommy rubbed his head, swallowing the crawling sensation that was clawing its way up his throat to threaten his fake smile. "My uncle passed away recently, so I have some family commitments. What's your schedule? I'll be sure to swing by in the next week or two, and we can organise something. Maybe you and I could get a drink then?"

Two minutes later, palms slick with sweat, he was free of their presence and walking back along the sweltering sidewalk towards the bus stop. Well, now I know which days to avoid going to the clinic, he thought, and he started bouncing as he stepped, in a way he hadn't done in over a year.

The smile widened into a wicked grin and became genuine. I think she technically just told me when the guard changes are, too. Seamus might be interested in that, if he doesn't already know. He ran his tongue over his teeth, still thinking over the older man's proposition. Mereeva hmm? She'd do nicely.



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