Warrior Cats: Into the Cosmos
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Firepaw gently guided his ship onto the flat expanse of worn white stone. Graypaw and Ravenpaw landed beside him. Next to them, a squadron of Thunder Fleet elders, queens, and soldiers waited alongside their ships for Bluestar to escort them.
Firepaw had not seen this place since his first journey with Lionheart and Tigerclaw. The water-covered planet looked different now. The tide retreated enough to expose smooth white stones, and what had at first been a lonely impact crater with four indescribably tall trees alone on the planet now revealed itself as a large mountain. Most of it was still submerged, and the white stone pathways carved into and built out of its slopes showed years of cycled damage and repairs. Roots from the trees moulded themselves with the structures, giving some areas a striped appearance. At one point, it must have been a city. Firepaw wondered what lay deep below the mountain, but not even the River Fleet dared to venture too far below the surface in their all terrain ships. It was beyond the light of the Star Fleet, which meant it was far beyond their protection.
The air was thick with the warm scents of cats from the other Fleets. Firepaw could see them quite clearly in the moonlight, emphasized against the white stones as he ascended the stairs. One of the elders began to explain how they landed their ships on a building that used to be a university. Another argued it had once been a hospital. Neither were sure how far from the base of the mountain the water came to rest. The steps weren’t too long, maybe only equivalent to three or four flights of stairs, and once they reached the indented mountain top Firepaw tried to crane his neck to see the tops of the oaks. A meteorite sat in the center of the crater, shimmering with a reflective dark stone. It had been carved into and smoothed on the top so the leaders could make their announcements from it once the time came.
“Look at all those cats!” hissed Ravenpaw under his breath as he removed his helmet. He was careful where he placed his paws, avoiding the snake he’d just painted on the side of it before they left.
“There’s Crookedstar!” Graypaw hissed back. “River Fleet’s captain.”
“Where?” Firepaw mewed, nudging Graypaw impatiently.
“That light-colored tabby, beside the Meteorite.”
Firepaw followed Graypaw’s nod and saw a huge tom, even bigger than Lionheart, standing in the clearing in a cream colored robe and making small talk with the surrounding fleet members. A four pointed star pin on his lapel shimmered when he walked. He did not wear the same deep blue fleet uniforms the other River Fleet cats had on. His were loose garments accented only by the deep blue trim, ending at his knees. Where his robe ended, a deep blue undershirt matching the Fleet uniform shade covered his arms as well as a nice pair of pants in the same shade. His boots were black and unremarkable. It was the same as the outfit Bluestar now wore, though hers was a deep green instead of shades of blue. Neither brought along a pilot’s helmet. Even from this distance, Crookedstar’s face showed the signs of a harsh life. His mouth look twisted, as if it had once been broken and had healed badly.
“Hey!” mewed Graypaw. “Did you see Sandpaw spit when I told her I hoped she had a nice evening at home?”
“You bet!” Firepaw purred, flicking his tail mischievously.
Ravenpaw interrupted them with a low growl. “Look! There’s Brokenstar—Shadow Fleet’s captain.”
Firepaw looked over to the Meteorite, and on it stood a dark brown tabby. He wore his ceremonial robe on his shoulders, leaving the front open to show an all black uniform beneath, interrupted only by the cream accent lines running down his sides. His fur was unusually long and his face was broad and flattened. There was a stillness in the way he stood and stared around him that made Firepaw’s fur prickle uncomfortably.
“He looks pretty nasty,” Firepaw muttered.
“Yeah,” agreed Graypaw. “He’s certainly got a reputation among all the Fleets for not suffering fools gladly. And he’s not been in charge that long—four moons, ever since his father, Raggedstar, died.”
“What does the captain of the Wind Fleet look like?” Firepaw asked.
“Tallstar? I’ve never seen him, but I know he’s black and white with a very long tail,” answered Graypaw.
“Can you see him now?” asked Ravenpaw.
Graypaw peered around, searching the crowd of cats gathered in the crater. “Nope!”
“Can you see any Wind Fleet cats?” Firepaw asked.
Graypaw shook his head. “Nope. They’d be in purple.”
Lionheart’s meow sounded softly beside them. “The Wind Fleet may just be late.”
“But what if they don’t turn up at all?” mewed Graypaw.
“Hush! We must all be patient. These are difficult times. Now keep quiet. Bluestar will give the signal to descend into the crater soon,” Lionheart meowed quietly.
As he spoke, Bluestar reached the top of the steps and approached the rim of the impact crater. She nodded subtly, and the Thunder Fleet cats began to descend. Firepaw’s heart missed a beat as he raced alongside them, marveling at the bootprints that had worn down the layers of roots and stones into clear paths, steps, and seating. The other Fleet cats looked even more impressive close up, milling around the Meteorite. A large white furred soldier in a black uniform strode past. Firepaw and Ravenpaw looked at him in awe.
“Look at his paws!” Ravenpaw murmured.
Firepaw looked to the paws of the great tom, realizing what he thought were gloves was actually jet black fur.
“It must be Blackstep,” mewed Graypaw. “Shadow Fleet’s new deputy.”
Blackstep stalked over to Brokenstar and stood beside him, his uniform looking a matte dark grey next to the shiny black of the meteorite. The Shadow Fleet captain acknowledged him with a twitch of one ear, but said nothing.
“When does the meeting begin?” Ravenpaw asked Whitestorm. He was one of the only cats carrying their helmet, having wanted to show off the new paint on the side, but Firepaw could see he was beginning to regret it at the sight of the crowd.
“Be patient, Ravenpaw,” he answered. “The sky is clear tonight, so we have plenty of time.”
Lionheart leaned over and added, “We pilots like to spend a little time boasting about our victories, while the mechanics or other station workers swap advice or tales of the ancient days before the Twolegs came here.” All three apprentices looked up at him and saw his whiskers twitch mischievously.
Dappletail, One-eye, and Smallear headed straight off toward a group of elderly cats who were sitting among the roots of one of the oak trees. Whitestorm and Lionheart strolled over to another pair of pilots whom Firepaw did not know. Their blue uniforms made it clear they were from the River Fleet.
Bluestar’s voice sounded behind the three apprentices. “Don’t waste any of your time tonight,” she warned. “This is a good opportunity to meet your enemies. Listen to them; remember what they look like and how they behave. There is a great deal to be learned from these meetings.”
“And say little,” warned Tigerclaw. “Don’t give anything away that might be used against us once the moon has waned.”
“Don’t worry, we won’t!” Firepaw promised hastily, looking into Tigerclaw’s eyes. The feeling that Tigerclaw didn’t trust his loyalty lingered with him still.
The two pilots nodded and moved on, and the apprentices were left alone. They looked at each other.
“What do we do now?” Firepaw asked.
“What they said,” replied Ravenpaw with a shrug. “Listen.”
“And don’t say too much,” Graypaw chimed in.
Firepaw nodded gravely. “I’m going to see where Tigerclaw went,” he mewed.
“Well, I’m going to find Lionheart,” mewed Graypaw. “You coming, Ravenpaw?”
“No, thanks,” Ravenpaw replied, inspecting the painting on his helmet to make sure it had dried. “I’m going to find some of the other apprentices.”
“Okay, we’ll meet up later,” Firepaw gave them both a nod before trotting off in the direction Tigerclaw had taken.
He followed Tigerclaw’s booming voice easily and found him standing in the center of a group of huge soldiers by the Meteorite. He was speaking and waving his paws wildly for emphasis.
It was a tale Firepaw had heard many times at camp. Tigerclaw was describing his recent battle against the River Fleet squadron. “I wrestled like a Lion. Three soldiers tried to hold me but I threw them off and disarmed them all!” He swung his arms into the air with this, earning gasps from the crowd. “I fought them paw to paw until two lay knocked out and the other had run off to its ship like a kit crying for its mother.”
This time Tigerclaw didn’t mention killing Oakheart in vengeance for Redtail’s death. Firepaw decided it was perhaps so he doesn’t offend the River Fleet members.
Firepaw listened politely to the end of the story, but a familiar snide voice caught his attention as he walked off. Longtail was sauntering towards him with a few other young pilots in tow. He flashed a sneer that exposed his missing tooth. “Notice anything, Firepaw?” Firepaw had enough sense not to point out the hole in Longtail’s smile. Thankfully, the pilot didn’t wait for an answer. He leaned closer, flicking his torn ear. A glint of metal shimmered in the moonlight. “Some River Fleet cat pierced it for me.” The sandy tabby looked back at the pilots following him, nodding proudly. “Didn’t even flinch.”
Firepaw looked at the silver piercing, genuinely admiring it and wondering how it had felt. He opened his mouth, about to remark that Yellowfang had similar piercings in her ear, but clamped his muzzle shut upon remembering her status as a prisoner was still secret.
Another voice chimed in. “You better take care of it, those can get infected easily when they’re new,” Spottedleaf walked up behind Firepaw and flicked her tail. “Wouldn’t want to lose any more of your ear.”
Unimpressed by the comment, Longtail’s ears flattened and he clenched his jaw as the River Fleet pilots around him snickered. He muttered something about wanting to meet the River Fleet deputy before storming off.
“He’s brave to keep picking on you, considering what happened last time,” Spottedleaf purred, placing her paws on her hips as she watched Longtail retreat. “Graypaw was looking for you.” Then, leaning down to whisper, she added, “You make sure he doesn’t speak so loudly when he talks about the other clans, alright?” Her whiskers twitched in amusement.
“Of course!” Firepaw agreed, wondering to himself what trouble Graypaw was getting himself into this time. He scampered off towards where Spottedleaf directed him, eventually spotting Graypaw sitting on a large root nearby a cluster of various Fleet toms. “Still no sign of Wind Fleet,” he called out to his friend as he approached.
“The meeting hasn’t begun yet; they may still come,” replied his friend. “Look, there’s Runningnose. He’s the new lead Shadow Fleet doctor, apparently.” He nodded toward a small gray-and-white cat at the center of the group wearing a cream colored medic uniform with dark gray accents.
“I can see why they call him Runningnose,” Firepaw remarked. The medic’s nose was wet at the tip and enscrusted around the edges.
“Yep,” replied Graypaw with a scornful growl. “I can’t see why they appointed him when he can’t even cure his own cold!” Graypaw looked thoughtful for a moment before adding, “Do you think that’s his real name, or just a nickname he’s stuck with?”
Firepaw didn’t answer, he was too busy listening to the doctor speak. Runningnose was telling the cats about an herb that the medics used to use in the old days to cure kitten-cough. “Since the Twolegs came and destroyed the planets they grew on, covering it with hard earth and strange flowers,” he complained in a high-pitched yowl, “the herb has disappeared, and kittens die needlessly!”
The cats gathered around him yowled their disapproval.
“It never would have happened in the time of the Great Cats,” growled a black River Fleet queen.
“Indeed,” mewled a silver tabby. “The Great Cats would have killed any Twoleg that dared enter their territory. If Tigers roamed these planets still, Twolegs would not have built this far into our galaxies.”
Then Firepaw heard Spottedleaf’s quiet mew, not having realized she followed him. “If Tigers still roamed these planets, we would hardly have made our territory here, either.”
“What’s a Great Cat?” mewed a small voice beside them. Firepaw noticed a little tabby apprentice from one of the other fleets, his black uniform baggy on his frame.
“The Great Cats used to rule the galaxies,” Graypaw explained quietly. “The Tiger was a cat of the night, bigger than Twolegs, with jet-black stripes. Then there was the Lion. They’re…” Graypaw hesitated, frowning as he tried to remember.
“Oh! I’ve heard of them,” mewed the little tabby. “They were as big as Tigers, with yellow fur and golden manes like the rays of a sun.”
Graypaw nodded. “And then there was another one, a spotty cat or something like that…”
“I suspect you’re thinking of the Leopard, young Graypaw,” meowed a deep voice from behind them.
“Lionheart!” Graypaw greeted his mentor with an enthusiastic wave.
Lionheart shook his head in mock despair. “Don’t you youngsters know your history? The Leopard was the swiftest of the cats, huge and golden, spotted with black pawprints. You can thank the Leopard for the speed and hunting skills you now possess.”
“Thank them? Why?” asked the tabby.
Lionheart gazed down at the little apprentice, “There is a trace of all the Great Cats in every cat today. We would not be so quick minded without our Tiger ancestors, and our love for the planets comes from the Lion.” He paused. “You are a Shadow Fleet apprentice, aren’t you? How many moons are you?”
The tabby stared awkwardly down at the ground, shoving his paws into his oversized pockets. “S-six moons,” he stammered, not meeting Lionheart’s eye.
“Rather small for six moons,” Lionheart murmured. His tone was gentle, but his gaze was searching and serious.
“My mother was small too,” answered the tabby nervously. He bowed slightly and backed away, disappearing into the crowd of cats with a twitch of his light brown tail. His boots scuffed awkwardly, too big for his paws.
Lionheart turned to Firepaw and Graypaw. “Well, he might be small, but at least he was curious. If only you two showed as much interest in the stories your elders tell!”
“Sorry, Lionheart,” Firepaw and Graypaw mewed, exchanging doubtful glances.
Lionheart grunted good-naturedly. “Oh, go away, the pair of you! Next time I hope Bluestar decides to bring apprentices who appreciate what they hear.” And with a half-hearted growl he chased them away from the group.
“Come on,” purred Graypaw as they leaped away. “Let’s see where Ravenpaw’s gotten to.”
Ravenpaw was in the middle of a group of apprentices who were clamoring for him to tell them about the battle with River Fleet.
“Go on, Ravenpaw, tell us what happened!” called a pretty black-and-white she-cat.
Ravenpaw shyly shuffled his paws and shook his head, clutching his helmet to his chest.
“Come on, Ravenpaw!” insisted another.
Ravenpaw sheepishly looked around and saw Firepaw and Graypaw at the edge of the crowd. Firepaw nodded encouragingly, and Graypaw raised him two thumbs up. Ravenpaw flicked his tail in acknowledgement and began his story.
He stumbled a bit at first, but as he continued, the tremor disappeared from his voice and his audience leaned in, their eyes growing wider.
“Fur was flying everywhere. Blood spattered the stone paths, bright red against the dusty floor. I’d just fought off a huge soldier and sent him squealing back to his ship when the ground shook, and I heard a soldier scream.” Ravenpaw raised his helmet above his head. “It was Oakheart! Redtail raced past me, blood covering his torn uniform. ‘Oakheart is dead!’ he howled. Then he rushed off to help Tigerclaw as he fought another pilot.”
“Who would have thought Ravenpaw was such a good storyteller,” Graypaw murmured to Firepaw, sounding impressed.
But Firepaw was thinking of something else. What was it Ravenpaw had said? That Redtail had killed Oakheart? But according to Tigerclaw, Oakheart had killed Redtail and he, Tigerclaw, had killed Oakheart in revenge.
“If Redtail killed Oakheart, who killed Redtail?” Firepaw hissed to Graypaw.
“If who did what?” Graypaw echoed absentmindedly. He was only half listening to Firepaw.
Firepaw shook his head to clear it. He assured himself that Ravenpaw must have been mistaken. He must have meant Tigerclaw.
Ravenpaw was coming to the end of his story. “Finally, Redtail dragged the wailing cat off Tigerclaw by his tail and, with the strength of an entire fleet, flung him into a nearby wall.”
A moving shadow caught Firepaw’s eye. He glanced around and saw Tigerclaw standing a short distance away. The pilot was watching Ravenpaw with an iron stare. Unaware of his mentor’s presence, Ravenpaw continued to answer question after question from his enthusiastic audience.
“What were Oakheart’s dying words?”
“Is it true that Oakheart had never lost a battle before?”
Ravenpaw replied promptly, with his voice high and clear and his eyes shining. But when Firepaw glanced back at Tigerclaw, he saw a look of horror and then fury creep over the pilot’s face. Clearly Tigerclaw wasn’t enjoying Ravenpaw’s story at all.
Firepaw was just about to say something to Graypaw when a loud yowl signaled to all the cats for quiet. Firepaw couldn’t help feeling relieved as Ravenpaw fell silent at last, and Tigerclaw turned away.
Firepaw looked up to see where the yowl had come from. Three cats stood silhouetted against the moonlit sky on top of the Meteorite. They were Bluestar, Brokenstar, and Crookedstar.
The fleet captains were about to begin the meeting. But where was the Wind Fleet captain?
“Surely they won’t start the meeting without Tallstar?” Firepaw hissed under his breath.
“I don’t know,” Graypaw muttered back.
“Haven’t you noticed? There isn’t a single Wind Fleet cat here,” whispered a River Fleet apprentice on the other side of Firepaw.
Firepaw guessed that similar conversations were going on all around him. As the other cats were gathering beneath the Meteorite, an unsettled murmuring rumbled in their throats.
“We can’t start yet,” yowled one voice above the hum. “Where are the Wind Fleet representatives? We must wait until all the fleets are present.”
On top of the rock, Bluestar stepped forward. Her gray fur glowed almost white in the moonlight. “Cats of all fleets, welcome,” she meowed in a clear voice. “It is true that Wind Fleet is not present, but Brokenstar wishes to speak anyway.”
Brokenstar padded noiselessly up to stand beside Bluestar. His paws were folded neatly together in front of his torso. He surveyed the crowd for a few moments, his orange eyes burning. Then he took a deep breath and began. “Friends, I come to speak to you tonight about the needs of the Shadow Fleet—”
But he was interrupted by raised, impatient voices from below.
“Where is Tallstar?” cried one.
“Where are the Wind Fleet members?” yowled another.
Brokenstar stretched up to his full height and lashed his tail from side to side. “As the captain of the Shadow Fleet, it is my right to address you here!” he growled in a voice full of menace. The crowd fell into an uneasy silence. All around him, Firepaw could feel fear permeate through the air.
Brokenstar unfolded his paws and yowled again. “We all know that the hard time of leaf-bare, and late newleaf, have left us with little supplies on our planets.” Brokenstar’s words were paired with long, sweeping paw motions, exaggerated and hypnotic. “But we also know that Wind Fleet, River Fleet, and Thunder Fleet have lost many kits in station and on planets due to the freezing weather and damaged crops so late in the season. Shadow Fleet did not lose kits. We are hardened to the cold winds and aches of hunger. OUr kits are stronger than yours from the moment they are born. And so we find ourselves with many mouths to feed, and too little to feed them.”
The crowd, still silent, listened anxiously.
“The needs of the Shadow Fleet and its planets are simple. In order to survive, we must increase our airspace and planets of operation. That is why I insist that you allow Shadow Fleet pilots into your settlements.”
A shocked but muted growl rippled through the crowd.
“Share our supplies?” called the outraged voice of Tigerclaw.
“It is unprecedented!” cried a tortoiseshell queen from the River Fleet. “The Fleets have never shared colonies!”
“Should the Shadow Fleet be punished because our kits thrive?” yowled Brokenstar from the meteorite. It echoed through the crater and between the oak trees. “Do you want us to watch our young starve? You must share what you have with us!”
“Must!” spat Smallear incredulously from the back of the crowd.
“Must,” repeated Brokenstar, folding his paws once more. “The Wind Fleet failed to understand this. In the end, we were forced to drive them out of their airspace.”
Snarls of outrage burst from the crowd, but Brokenstar’s caterwaul rang loud above them: “And, if we have to, we will drive you and your soldiers from your planets and colonies in order to feed our hungry kits.”
There was instant silence. On the other side of the clearing, Firepaw heard a River Fleet apprentice start to mutter something, but he was quickly hushed by an elder. Customs forbade anyone from bringing along a weapon to the gathering, but several soldiers from Thunder Fleet and River Fleet moved to hover their paws instinctively over their belts.
Satisfied that he had every cat’s attention, Brokenstar continued. “Each year, the Twolegs spoil more of our planets. At least one Fleet must remain strong, if all the Fleets are to survive. Shadow Fleet thrives while you all struggle. And there may come a time when you will need us to protect you.”
“You doubt our strength?” hissed Tigerclaw. His pale eyes glared threateningly at the Shadow Fleet commander, and his powerful shoulders rippled with tension.
“I do not ask for your answer now.” Brokenstar ignored the pilot’s challenge with a dismissive wave. “You must each go away and consider my words. But bear this in mind: Would you prefer to share your supplies, or be driven out and left stranded and starving?”
Pilots, elders, station workers, and apprentices all looked at one another in disbelief. In the anxious pause that followed, Crookedstar stepped forward. “I have already agreed to allow the Shadow Fleet some trade rights and fishing access to two of our planets,” he meowed quietly, gazing down at his fellow workers.
Horror and humiliation rippled through the River Fleet at their captain’s words.
“We were not consulted!” cried a grizzled silver tabby.
“I feel that this is the best for our colonies and our fleet. For all the Fleets,” Crookedstar explained, his voice heavy with resignation. “As a Fleet it is our duty to protect our colonies. There are plenty of fish in our rivers. It is better to share our food than to spill blood fighting over it.”
“And what of Thunder Fleet?” Smallear croaked. “Bluestar? Have you, too, agreed to this outrageous demand?”
Bluestar unwaveringly met the old cat’s gaze. “I have made no agreement with Brokenstar except that I shall discuss his proposal with my station after the Gathering.”
“Well, at least that’s something,” muttered Graypaw into Firepaw’s ear. “We’ll show them we’re not as soft as that yellow-bellied River Fleet.”
Brokenstar spoke up again, his rasping voice sounding arrogant and strong after Crookedstar’s surrender. “I also bring news that is important to the safety of your kits. A Shadow Fleet cat has turned rogue and spurred the pilot code. She stole a ship and we chased her from our airspace, but we do not know where she is now. She looks a mangy old creature, but she has a bite like a Tiger.”
Firepaw’s fur bristled. Could Brokenstar possibly be talking about Yellowfang? He pricked up his ears, curious to hear more.
“She is dangerous. I warn you—do not offer shelter to her. And” —Brokenstar paused dramatically— “until she is caught and killed, I urge you to keep a close eye on your nurseries.”
Firepaw knew from the nervous growl that rumbled in the throats of the Thunder Fleet cats that they, too, had thought of Yellowfang. The bold she-cat had done nothing to endear herself to her reluctant hosts, and Firepaw guessed it wouldn’t take much to drum up hatred against her—even the words of a despised enemy like Brokenstar would be enough.
The Shadow Fleet soldiers began to push their way out of the throng of cats. Brokenstar descended from the Meteorite, and his pilots immediately surrounded him and escorted him away from the crater, back to where Shadow Fleet had landed its ships. The remaining Shadow Fleet cats followed quickly behind, including the undersize tabby Lionheart had questioned earlier. But among the other Shadow Fleet apprentices, the tabby no longer looked unusually small—they all looked tiny and undernourished, more like kits of three or four moons than full-fledged apprentices.
“What do you think of all that?” Graypaw mewed in a low voice.
Ravenpaw bounded over before Firepaw could reply. “What’s going to happen now?” he wailed, his fur fluffed up in alarm and his eyes wider than ever.
Firepaw didn’t answer. The elders of the Thunder Fleet were gathering nearby, and he was straining to hear what they were saying.
“That must be Yellowfang he was talking about,” growled Smallear.
“Well, she did snap at Goldenflower’s youngest the other day,” murmured Speckletail darkly. She was the oldest nursery queen, and fiercely protective of all the kits.
“And we’ve left her behind, with the station virtually unguarded!” wailed One-eye, who for once seemed to be having no trouble hearing everything.
“I tried to tell you she was a danger to us,” hissed Darkstripe, pushing his way into the group of elders. “Bluestar has to listen to reason now and get rid of her before she harms any of our young!”
Tigerclaw strode up to the group. “We must return to camp at once and deal with this rebel!” he yowled.
Firepaw didn’t stop to hear more. His mind was spinning. Loyal as he was to his Fleet, he just couldn’t believe that Yellowfang would be a danger to kits. Frightened for the old she-cat, burning with questions only she could answer, he raved away from Graypaw and Ravenpaw without a word.
He charged up the crater and down the steps towards the landing zone. Had he been mistaken about Yellowfang? If he warned her about the danger she was in, would he be risking his own position in the Thunder Fleet? From where he was, he could see the Shadow Fleet already taking off in their strange, bulky, shimmering ships. If he left now, the sight and sound of their takeoff could disguise his own. Whatever trouble he got himself into for it, he had to find out the truth from Yellowfang before the other cats got back to the station.
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