Captain’s log, 14 September 2157.

My last captain’s log is lost to time forever, thanks to an unfortunate situation involving small felines.

“Captain on the bridge!” Liam announced. The small crew turned their heads and looked at the figure on the crosswalk.

Renelle flung a notebook, soaked and dripping, at the pilots’ seats. “Stop saying that. We have a crew of ten on a good day. Can someone tell me why a litter of kittens used my logs to relieve themselves?”

Liam started to approach the wet logs, but drew back after catching a whiff of the pungent smell. “Kittens? What kittens?”

Arynne sauntered into the cockpit with a small tabby in her arms. “Those kittens!” Renelle exclaimed.

“Yes. Isn’t she precious?” Arynne cooed.

“Not if she isn’t potty-trained, she isn’t.” Renelle marched down the steps leading back into the cargo hold.

“Doesn’t she mean litter-trained?” Liam asked Arynne.

“What was that all about?” Ieva peered into the cockpit. Her nine tails gathered around her head as though also trying to catch a glimpse.

“I’m not sure,” Arynne said. “But we should gather the kittens and put them away. We’re only ten minutes out from our next checkpoint.”

The planet of Pluto, located in the galactic west and often confused with the dwarf planet Pluto in the Old Galaxy, loomed large in dark reds and patchy greens. Renelle took over the cockpit from Liam as they drew nearer to the checkpoint. Dreadnoughts and carriers placed in defense of the planet came to life, making the small crew’s light cruiser feel minuscule in comparison. Renelle activated the comms. “Antemyst StarCraft Fermata, designation 0070130, requesting permission to approach and dock.”

The comms crackled around the rough male voice that responded. “ASC Fermata, you are cleared to dock. Prepare to be boarded for inspection.”

The cruiser glided into the dock with far more grace than the old clunker should have had. Renelle released the controls and joined her crew at the cargo door. “Ieva, put your tails away,” Renelle hissed, and the kitsune’s tails vanished. “Please tell me y’all secured the kittens well away from here.”

“Of course we did,” Nola said, tucking away a lock of unruly brown hair. “Does it matter?”

“Who is the captain of this starcraft?” The heavy voice of the lead inspector boomed loud in the hold, shaking the rickety metal frame. Liam and Nola paled, and Ieva looked nervous.

The Canids were a tough, judgmental bunch. Similar in appearance to German Shepherds, they were extremely territorial and only allowed visitors to pass after having thoroughly inspected them. “I’m Captain Renelle Scriven,” Renelle said, extending her hand in greeting. The lead inspector sniffed her hand, batted it away, then sniffed her from head to toe. The other two Canid inspectors did the same to the other crew members.

“What is your purpose on Pluto?” the lead inspector demanded.

“We’re traveling performers,” Renelle answered. “We have a concert series in Canidia starting tonight.”

The lead inspector signaled his comrades, and the trio sniffed around the hold for a few minutes. “Something’s off here, Boss,” one of the junior Canids said.

“What’s that?” the lead inspector asked.

“Meow,” something stuffed deep within one of the holds said.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Arynne said with a not-so-easy laugh. “We’ll just be on our way now.”

“Silence!” the lead inspector barked. “This is of interest.”

Renelle issued a deadly glare at her crew as the Canids pulled a crate full of kittens out of the shadows of the hold.

“This is contraband,” the lead inspector said. “Are you planning to sell or distribute these among the Canid population?”

“No, no, not at all,” Liam said hurriedly. “They’re just—“

“—props for our show!” Nola finished. “It’s about, um, how cats are inferior animals. See, look how dopey they are!”

“Indeed,” the lead inspector said, although he appeared to be enthralled by the small cat in his paws. “Very well. You are cleared for landing in Canidia. Be advised, though, that these specimens must leave with you. I will personally, ah, inspect your craft on departure to be certain.”

“Of course you will,” Ieva drawled.

“Thanks, Inspector. We’ll look forward to it,” Renelle said, and the inspectors left. As the cargo door closed, she shook her head and headed back to the cockpit.

“That was close,” Yvonne, the resident cellist, said.

“Yeah, but it’s all good,” Arynne said, setting the kittens loose again. “And that’s what matters, right?”