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“Sorry,” he called after the skulking reptile.

He turned toward the furball. It hadn’t fled or made much progress up the tree trunk.

“You’re going to end up a meal if you can’t climb any better than that.” He approached the little thing.

The tiny beast hissed, a weak, high-pitched raspy sound, bravely demanding he stay back. But when it did, it lost grip on the trunk and tumbled to the ground. The furball wobbled as it struggled to its feet.

“I can’t just leave you like this,” he sighed.

His brow furrowed when the miniature ball of fluff didn’t even make an attempt to escape as he scooped it up.

“I don’t think you could flee if you wanted to. You’re skin and bones.” Despite the furball being totally foreign to him, it was obviously starving.

He studied the beastie as he headed back to his cruiser. Underneath the mud, there was tan fur with dark spots all over its back. It had a long tail tucked up under it, and four paws with retractable claws that were currently trying to dig into his arms. Like the alligator, it couldn’t even scratch the surface of his shell.

“I don’t think you’re in any shape to protest.”

He held the creature up so it was eye level. Large, fearful blue eyes stared back at him. Its whiskered dark muzzle open revealing a pink tongue and pin teeth as it attempted another raspy little growl.

“Easy. You’re going to get a meal for your trouble.”

He made an educated guess and had the replicator produce a bland protein-rich broth. The beastie’s little nose starting making loud snuffling noises as it scented the treat.

“Hold on,” he instructed and headed toward the small sleeping quarters at the rear of the cruiser. “I’m not about to let you have free rein of the vessel. This cruiser might not be as big as the frigate but you’re not very big either. You tuck yourself into a corner of the loading bay and I’ll never find you again.”

The ball of fluff hissed in disagreement, angling toward the bowl of broth in his other hand.

“Is that so?” he chuckled at the protest.

After making sure the door was shut, he took a seat on the narrow bed, and placed the furball along with the broth on the floor. Greedily the beastie began lapping it up.

“Take it easy. You’re going to choke.”

When he attempted to pull the bowl away so the beastie was forced to take a breath, a tiny paw batted his hand and the beastie gave him a gurgled hiss, its mouth still full of broth that dribbled down its tiny, furry chin.

“You are mouthy,” he snorted at the disgruntled expression he received. “I’ll get you more, just don’t choke.” He relented and pulled his hand back.

As the furball continued lapping at its meal, an amusing rolling rumble started vibrating through its little body.

“Does that mean it’s good?” He smiled in amusement. “Let’s see what you are.”

Aculus glanced at the communicator strapped to his wrist. He tapped on the screen, first checking on Ashtoret, who had yet to contact him. Satisfied the Cadi male’s signal was still strong, several hectares to the north, he linked with the human information network.

“You remind me a lot of a race of people called the Felidae. But I doubt the humans have them listed in their database,” he commented while inputting the characteristics of the furball into his communicator. “It looks like you’re something called a cat.”

He studied the translated information and pictures till he was confident that’s what the furball was.

“From the looks of it, you’re a juvenile, a kitten. Well, no wonder. You probably aren’t old enough to be on your own. What happened to your matron? Did one of those alligators get her?” he asked as he perused the information. “You’re not even supposed to be in the wilds at all. This says the humans domesticated your species to hunt vermin.”

He frowned at the beastie. With that info he couldn’t very well feed the furball then release it into the swamp again.

As he was debating what to do his comm beeped, displaying an urgent message from Ashtoret.

“I think our friend’s in trouble again.” He swiftly stood and headed for the door. “You behave in here and I’ll get you another bowl of broth soon.”

The kitten didn’t even bother to glance up from the nearly empty bowl as he left the room. He jogged to the front and got the cruiser up in the air, not bothering to strap into his seat. The location wasn’t that far. In no time he was closing in on Ashtoret’s location. He avoided two human aircraft with primitive rotary blades as he piloted toward the grassy field. His cruiser was cloaked so they had no idea they’d been surpassed.

“He is in trouble,” he rumbled as he set down in the clearing and swiftly assessed the situation.