Follow Kvarau

“So what does it feel like to be in a body like ours?” you ask Kvarau as the two of you slink through the tangled depths of the station.

The alien shivers. It’s an unusual motion, intended for a different set of limbs. “Precarious.”

Neither of you speak again as you push further into Unity’s wild recesses. The plants and other living material become increasingly patchy and sparse. If you continue far enough, you would encounter areas of the station’s superstructure that are totally unfinished and bare to vacuum. You hope the assholes you’re hunting haven’t chosen somewhere like that to hide. Without a skinsuit, you’d have to let Kvarau go on alone, and you don’t trust the Jelly that much. Not by a long shot. For all you know, it’s trying to cover up a political mess for the Jelly high command.

Kvarau stops as the two of you enter a ninety-degree intersection. The Jelly stiffens and points with the first two fingers of its left hand.

You look. In the right-hand branch of the intersection, perhaps ten meters away, is a. . . a cat. A very large housecat with a ruffed mane, oversized paws, and tasseled ears. It’s sitting upright, statuesque and alert, in the darkened tunnel. The tip of its tail twitches. Once. Twice. Then is still.

“What’s that doing here?” you mutter to Kvarau in an undertone.

It’s a rhetorical question, but the alien answers all the same: “Either the hunter was grown from the station, or it has escaped from the others of your form.”

“Humans. Humans. . . . There’s another option. The cat belongs to the people we’re looking for.”

Nictating membranes flash across the alien’s eyes. “There is no scent of them in that direction.”

Hmm. You’re not entirely convinced. The cat doesn’t seem scared of you, which suggests it hasn’t gone feral. Either way, it looks well fed.

Which direction should you go?