Chapter 20

            Max and Spot III pushed buttons on their belts at the same time and began speaking rapidly.  They came to the same conclusion moments later.  "She's right, sir," Max said.  "Cattatonia is under attack from the Black Ships."

            "Confirmed," Spot III said.  "We're trying to pin down an estimate on ship strength."

            "I don't care about estimates," Buster roared.  He turned to Max.  "Prepare my ship.  We're launching as soon as I'm aboard."

            "Are you sure that's wise," Spot II said.  "If they're attacking in significant numbers, dispatching a few ships is only going to waste lives."

            "We're already wasting lives standing here.  The Black Ships aren't going to wait for us.  They'll level the entire surface while we're dithering around here."

            "I understand, but we can at least set a staging point near the planet to evaluate the situation tactically.  There's no sense in charging in without knowing what we're doing."

            "Are you daft?  We don't have any time for tactical analysis.  It's time to act!"

            Whiskers had glided across the room and now put a hand on her husband's shoulder.  "The chancellor is right, dear.  We can't throw ourselves into the battle without knowing the situation.  We can use Praxis as our staging point to array our forces."

            "How can you say that?" Heather shouted.  "Our people are going to die."

            "They're my people, young one.  Don't presume to lecture me on my responsibilities to them," Whiskers hissed.  "And if they're going to die, I don't want it to be in vain by engaging in foolish, wasteful heroics.  Do you understand?"

            "Yes, Mother," Heather said, her eyes still burning with rage.

            "Now, let's get moving," Whiskers said.

            They packed into one hovercar, Max and Spot III continuing to listen for updates on the attack.  At the moment, the Black Ship fleet was engaging Cattatonia's outermost defenses, but these wouldn't last long.  From there it would be up to the home fleet to keep the Black Ships at bay long enough for the Bloc fleet to arrive.

            Will, squeezed in uncomfortably close to his brother and Jessie, couldn't help worrying that they would be too late.  From what Ricky and others had said, the Black Ships didn't bother with niceties like taking prisoners.  They simply laid waste to the planets they encountered.  If the planet's defenses couldn't hang on long enough, there likely wouldn't be anything higher than a blade of grass left on Cattatonia.

            Still, he had to agree with Spot II and Whiskers' caution.  There was no point launching themselves into the fray without knowing what they were dealing with.  A sloppy, uncoordinated attack would most likely end up as a slaughter, with the Bloc forces coming out on the losing end.  At least if they organized they might have a better chance to win.

            Even if that victory was little more than revenge for a devastated planet.

            From being squished so close to Tom and Jessie, it wasn't hard to see Jessie's hand reaching across to take Tom's.  At nearly the same time, Whiskers reached over to take Buster's hand.  The bulldog stopped chewing on his cold cigar—his wife had made him put out the cigar before they piled into the hovercar—to look over at Whiskers.  His pushed-in face contorted into a sort of smile.  "Everything will be fine, darling," he said.

            "I'm sure it will be," she said, but her voice rung as hollow as Dr. Ruff's.  Will couldn't imagine the pain she must be feeling at her home planet facing annihilation.  He supposed Jessie must be sharing some of that pain as Cattatonia was her creation.  She had been the chief architect of the planet and its millions of lives, lives that now faced extinction.

            They reached the spaceport, where two landing craft waited for them.  The cats and bulldogs took one while the Mutts and Creators took the other.  The three Hellhound fighters that had come with Spot II's landing craft were already in the area, sweeping the area for any signs of trouble.  There was no trouble in the skies of Bulldogovia; all the dying was going on over Cattatonia.

            "It's going to be fine, babe," Tom said to Jessie.

            "I know," she said, her voice as hollow as Whiskers'. 

#

            Jeremiah, thanks to strong urging by Spot II, allowed the Creators to sit in the rear compartment of the bridge.  There they could listen to the intercepts from the Cattatonian defenses as they engaged the Black Ship fleet.  From what Will could hear, the news was grim.  The outer defenses had already been wiped out with no survivors.  The Black Ships were driving towards the planet with the home fleet preparing to engage them.

            Jessie paced around the rear of the compartment so as to stay out of the way of the technicians.  Neither of the Denton brothers said anything; Will knew there was little he could say at this point except to lie and reassure her the home fleet would hold out long enough for them to arrive.  From estimates in the adjoining compartment that wouldn't be for another five hours.

            Along with the Mutt, the rescue fleet consisted of Buster's equally large flagship the Bulldog and at least forty other ships of varying sizes.  More would rendezvous at the moon of Praxis, most of these drawn from Muttlandia's defenses.  A flotilla was being left behind at both Muttlandia and Bulldogovia in case the attack on Cattatonia was a feint to draw forces away from the rest of the Bloc.  Buster had initially disapproved of this until Spot II—and Whiskers—had reminded him of not putting all their eggs in one basket.  "We don't even know how much of their fleet the Black Ships are committing," Spot II had said.

            The estimate of enemy strength continued to swell.  The initial reports from the outer defenses had put the Black Ship fleet at a hundred.  That number had more than doubled since then and was rapidly reaching three hundred.  Even with most of their ships assembled, the Bloc fleet would still be outnumbered.

            From his seat in the rear compartment, Will again wished there was something he could do.  He, Tom, and Jessie were the Creators and yet there seemed to be nothing they could do.  A couple of times Will closed his eyes and tried to conjure more Bloc ships to oppose the Black Ship fleet.  As far as he could tell, this did nothing.  He chided himself that if he believed hard enough, if he truly believed in his power, he could do it.  But still nothing happened.

            After four hours of impatient waiting, the bad news came in:  the home fleet was destroyed.  The Black Ship fleet by all accounts still numbered well over one hundred fifty ships, at least twice what the Bloc was bringing to bear.  "They're closing in on the planet," a technician said gloomily.

            "We're too late," Jessie said.  She crumpled against Tom, beginning to sob.  "They're all going to die now.  It's my fault."

            "No it's not, babe," Tom said.  "You couldn't do anything—"

            "I created them," she said.  "I'm responsible for them."

            "We all created them.  All of us."  Tom looked over at Will.

            "What kind of pathetic gods are we?  We can't even save them."

            "We're not gods," Will said.  "We're just kids."

            Jessie looked up at him and then ran for the elevator.

#

            Thanks to her track team muscles, Jessie managed to outrun Tom and Will in the Mutt's winding corridors.  They probably could have asked the technicians on the bridge, or even Ricky Raccoon, to track her down with the ship's sensors, but they didn't want to interfere with the important business going on.  "Let's split up and cover more ground," Tom finally said.  "I just hope the crazy broad hasn't gone to the hangar to get herself a fighter or something."

            "She probably just went somewhere to think," Will said.

            They split up with Will taking the blue through yellow levels while Tom would scour the orange through black decks.  It seemed unlikely they would find one girl on a ship so large, but Will supposed there was nothing else they could do at the moment except listening to reports on the destruction of Cattatonia.  At least this way they would be doing something.

            The Mutt was already on full alert so that the corridors were nearly empty.  This made it easier for Will to make his way along blue deck.  With the ship on alert, most of the doors were sealed from outside access.  Will figured if he couldn't open them, neither could Jessie. 

            The conference room was one door that opened to his touch.  He searched the entire room, going so far as to push chairs aside to look under the table.  There was no sign of Jessie.  He continued on, sweeping the rest of blue level without success.

            He didn't find her on green or purple levels either.  He did run into Zeke Raccoon, who was in the midst of pushing a cart loaded with black boxes along the corridor.  The raccoon came to attention, looking for a moment as if he might genuflect.  "Hello, Creator.  Is there something I can help you with?"

            "I'm looking or another Creator.  The girl, Jessie."

            "I'm afraid I haven't seen her.  Dr. Ruff has been keeping me too busy to see much."

            "Dr. Ruff?  What's he doing?"

            "Beats me.  He wanted me to bring these power cells to his ship."  Zeke looked down at the floor.  "Is it true what they're saying about Cattatonia?"

            "I'm afraid so."

            "That's terrible.  I have friends there.  So does Ricky."  The young raccoon shook his head.  "We've lost a lot of friends already."

            "We're not going to lose any more," Will said.  He didn't believe this, but he could see that Zeke badly wanted to believe it at the moment.

            "That's right," Zeke said.  He looked back at his cart.  "I'd better get these to Dr. Ruff."

            The raccoon started to go.  Will called for him to wait.  "I think I'll go with you.  Maybe Dr. Ruff can help find Jessie."

            "I'm sure one of those computers of his can do it."  Will followed Zeke and his cart to the elevator and then to the flight deck.  The Beagle was still held down to one corner of the hangar, appearing to be little more than a pile of junk.  An airlock irised open to allow Zeke to push in the cart of power cells.  He took the load of cells along the ruined corridors to Dr. Ruff's lab with Will following along.

            He nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Jessie sitting in one of the modified dentist's chairs, though at the moment it didn't seem to be operating.  She looked down at the floor as she said, "Isn't there anything I can do?"

            "My research on the subject is not complete, but at the moment it appears that the beta energy and theta energy are canceling each other out, like a positive and negative charge," Dr. Ruff said.

            "So I can't create anything and neither can this fourth creator?"

            "That is what I'm postulating."

            "Great.  So I might as well go home.  It'd be better than watching them die."

            "That would be a rash decision," Dr. Ruff said.  "My research into the beta and theta energies is ongoing.  I might be able to find a way to negate the theta energy to allow you to use your power again."

            "Maybe."

            Will decided at that moment to step into the room.  "There you are," he said.  "Tom and I have been looking all over the ship for you."

            "Well, you've found me.  Good for you."

            Though he hadn't been flesh-and-blood for quite some time, enough of a memory remained that Dr. Ruff knew enough to busy himself at his computer terminal.  Will bent down to face Jessie.  "How about we go somewhere private and talk about this?"

            "Sure, why not."  They left Dr. Ruff and Zeke to their tasks, heading up to the abandoned bridge.  Jessie sank onto the command chair, leaving Will to the station to her left.  "So, talk."

            "I know what you're feeling.  It's like Tom said, we all helped create this place.  We're all responsible for it."

            "But Whiskers and Heather and the rest of the cats are mine.  They're the ones dying right now.  Don't you understand that?"

            "I do understand.  Ricky's mother and brother were my creations and they're dead.  So are a lot others.  They're dead and I didn't do anything to stop it."  He sighed.  "And once we get to Cattatonia, there's not going to be anything I can do while Spot and Ricky and the rest fight it out.  I'm just a passenger.  All three of us are."

            "I suppose you heard what Dr. Ruff said."

            "I heard.  Whoever this fourth Creator is, he's canceling us out."  Will shook his head.  "I still can't figure out who it could be.  You're sure you didn't tell anyone about the Bloc?"

            "No.  Why would I?  By the time we finished, I was too embarrassed to mention it to anyone."  She smiled tiredly.  "If only I'd known it was real."

            "If only Ricky and Heather had tried to contact us sooner."  Will thought back to those days, trying to think of someone he might have told about the Bloc of Planetary States, someone who might now be the enigmatic fourth Creator.  There was no one.  "I know I didn't tell anyone else about it."

            "How do you know?"

            He blushed as he said, "I didn't want anyone else to play.  I wanted you to myself."

            "Will—"

            "I'm sorry.  It's true, though.  It was bad enough sharing you with Tom."  He grimaced as he thought of their kiss in the raccoon village.  "I guess I'm still sharing you with him."

            She leaned forward, reaching out with one hand to touch his cheek.  "Will, don't talk like that.  I like you, you know that, but as a friend."

            "Why?"
            "Because of your brother."  She looked down at the deck.  "I've always had a crush on him, ever since you guys came over to my house.  When I was alone, really alone, I used to think about the two of us living together.  I used to write whole fantasies about it in my diary.  But I guess none of those have come to life—yet."

            "That wedding, was it Buster and Whiskers or you and Tom?"

            "What do you think?"

            "But he was always such a jerk to you.  He was always pulling your hair and calling you names.  Why him?"

            She stroked his cheek.  "I don't know how to explain it.  He was always so forceful and in control."

            "And I was just the nerdy little brother tagging along."

            "Will—"

            He leaned forward then to kiss her on the mouth.  It was the first time he had ever kissed a girl before, not counting his mother or grandparents or aunts.  The kiss didn't go as planned as Jessie refused to open her mouth to allow his tongue access.  Then pushed him away hard enough that he banged his head against the headrest of his seat.  "What was that?" she shouted.

            "I thought you liked forceful."

            "Not like that.  Not like a rapist, like that guard at Stratford."

            "I'm sorry."

            "Don't try it again if you want to keep your balls."

            The bridge door opened then, Tom rushing into the room.  "Are you guys all right?"

            "We're fine," Jessie ssaid.  "We were just talking.  Weren't we?"

            "Yes," Will said sourly.  He had blown things with Jessie forever by acting like a creep.  He'd be lucky if she ever talked to him again after this—if they survived this.

            Tom brought news on that front.  The Bloc fleet was dropping out of hyperspace to gather around Praxis.  Reports from the first ships to arrive indicated the Black Ships had not destroyed the planet—they were invading it.