Gone Gaia

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. When Earth exploded, July 4th 2024, billions of sentient life screamed, and we heard them, even at 384,400 km away.

That's where our ambassador vessel randevoused with the transports we sent to save the earthlings, at their moon. We saved the earthlings we could, and some of their sentient beings made it onto the vessel too; some of these sentient beings, like this fluffy wise one, I honestly pefer to many of the earthlings, yet I understand, their loss of terra was a terrible terrifying pain. When Earth exploded, screams were carried on the remnant shards of planetary rock that accelerated our way, and our rescues clutched their heart as our vessel hyperdrived through a warmhole just in time to see the moon destroyed by the remnants of earth.

Not all who cried out at Earth's destruciton cried out in sadness. Some rejoiced. Behind the moon and the shards of their once planet, the warship, Obelion, who pursues us now, to destroy the remains of the earthling race, and well, they aren't too fond of us either, for reasons sequenced in genetic coding.

They call me Inca. My earthling roomate, we call him Manhattan. This fluffy wise one that purrs when touched, he told us to call him Rembrandt. The expression of my roomate the first time he heard Rembrandt speak in his own language, for I outfitted Rembrandt with a chip the same as we outfitted the earthlings, that translates a specie's speach into each other's language, allowing us to converse and understand each other, and oh how Rembrandt wanted to make sure Manhattan knew he "wasn't just cat," and Manhattan as a human was as much of a rescue as Rembrandt was now. That is how we refer to our new earthling crew, as rescues.

Once our rescues were on board, and our ambassador vessel into the wormhole, I had finished outfitting Manhattan with his chip while Rembrandt circled and rubbed up alongside my leg.

"This thing purrs," I said to Manhattan.

"I can understand you," and Manhattan looked somewhat worried as my green hands contacted his skin to outfit the chip. "Sorry, it's just that I've never seen an alien before."

"Alien?" I questioned as I picked up Rembrandt and inserted his chip, "Who really is the alien here?" I asked.

"Humans are not always the brightest," Rembrandt interjected matter of factly.

"The cat! The Cat! It talks!?! It speaks?!? I just heard it speak?!? The Cat Speaks!?!" and Manhattan was beside himself.

"Yes, I speak human," Rembrandt turned his head toward Manhattan with accompanying a hiss, "and if you humans would have been quiet enough in the mind to communicate telepathically, you would have heard us cats long long ago." Rembrandt turned his head back toward me and sadly stated, "We used to be gods. Some of us still remember."

"I believe you my friend," and stroked down Rembrandt's fluffy back to which he purred.

Red lights flashed in our vessel. Sirens wailed. "All pilots, to your navigators. All pilots, to your navigators."

"That is me," and I placed Rembrandt on the floor and took off toward my Navigator.

"Wait, I'm air force. I'm coming too," and Manhattan took off running with me.

"No one is going anywhere without me," and Rembrandt's fluffy paws sped with speed by my feet.

We raced down corridors to the docking bay.

"Whoa, that is cool, Manhattan spoke."

"Can you point and fire?" I asked as I threw him a bubble helmet, "It is so you can breathe." I plucked the smallest of helmets and plopped one over Rembrandt's head.

"Yes, I can do that," Manhattan shouted back. "The cat, the cat is coming?"

"I see no reason why not, the cat is clearly a more intelligent life form than you," I reasonably replied.

"Fair enough, the cat is coming," Manhattan said under his breath to himself. "The cat is probably more intelligent. Learning curve. Today has been a steep learning curve. Very steep."

"God, used to be a God, over here," Rembrandt once again declared, and the three of us jumped into my navigator. The hud closed.

"What's she called," Manhattan asked.

"What is who called," I asked.

"Your navigator. Don't you name your ships."

"No, that is not a practice of ours, do you have a suggestion?" I asked.

"Gaia, let's name her Gaia." said Manhattan.

"Gaia is gone, but not forgotton," Rembrandt spoke, as he perched on my shoulder.

Gaia's supercharged engine roared. The bay door opened. Scout fighters that had hyperwarped and tracked us through the wormhole awaited, and into the galactic battlefield the ship soared.