Chapter 19

Cat and Slate

Cast adrift in deep space in one of the Red dwarf dilapidated transport vehicles, Slate and his followers tried desperately to master the controls of the small craft they were set a drift on, before the freezing cold of space enveloped them.

They were unable to master this and therefore were finally duly tested and failed. Cloister had spoken. Ten thousand years ago on one of Red Dwarf's landing bays.

Eventually over time this had become a practiced art among the Red Hat's, one of the oldest of the original twelve tribes. Originally the convicted were let out a service airlock on the landing bay. If they froze before they exploded they were innocent. If they froze after they exploded they were guilty.

Very few were deemed innocent. Eventually the practice was questioned
by the Cat tribes whose people seemed to be made for Testing. After all the arguments were heard by the elders of the Red Hats, the one which swayed their aged emotional hearts most was that of the high priced tickets sales and refreshments. These were sold for and during the event and were quite profitable. Making them an economical asset that could not be done away with.

Over the years this practice evolved into the testing out the transport vehicles, to be Tested, as it was called, as audiences became larger and continually required more and more entertainment. Groups of the condemned were given the choice of being stoned to death with stale donuts, or to help Catkind further itself with their quest to find the holy land, Fusha, and to help put some theories to the test.

The groups were given as much information about the controls of the transport vehicle as had been currently gathered by the previously condemned. The group was placed in the craft which had a rather long and sturdy tether attached to a tow hook then to a strut on the landing gear. Traditionally the group was sent out for a week, and then reeled back in, usually frozen as popsicles. Their frozen carcasses were then cast adrift rather unceremoniously.

During the time of the Outcats imprisonment there was a period of unrest among the Cat Tribes. An overnight coup had changed the balance of power among the tribes. It was now an oligarchy, ruled by the Red Hats, who never much cared for the Slate or his Outcats in the first place.

Secretly all this religious zeal was a convenient cover to test out theories on how to pilot the transport crafts, which the cat people had discovered earlier in their history. The Outcats lasted longer than most. Slate himself was the last aboard the craft to freeze completely, some
forty four hours after they had been sent out and tested.

When Slate realized the end was near he made his way slowly past and over his frozen people to the view port which faced Red Dwarf. His face to the plexiglas, his eye fixed on the landing bay doors which they had been cast out of, akin to the great gates of Fusha in his Neolithic mind, Slate's fate had been sealed. Or so he thought.

During their time of Slate's Testing the other Cat tribes had formed an alliance and attacked the Red Hats. Unknown to the leaders then this incident would lead to six years of constant war, throwing the Cat People's civilization, industries and religion into complete disarray. Testing had been forgotten during war time, as had a great many other things.
When the war was finally over most peace time activities were resumed,
although Testing was not one of them. The testing of transport vehicles would be lost to the cat people and would not be rediscovered again for thousands of years.

The Outcats were never reeled back in. They were still out there.
During these thousands of years as Holly would daydream and Red Dwarf would travel too close to a sun. Or through various radiation fields
that Slate's craft didn't have the proper shielding for. Slate and his people would thaw for a time, and try to master the ships controls.
If Slate and the Outcats were anything, they were resourceful. The instruments didn't have any recognizable smell to them, but many had pictures. Small simplified color coded images, that through trial and error, and a burnt paw or two, were eventually understood. Over time the Outcats would master the art of testing and become free. Free to deliver retribution.

Slate read from the sacred books which he and the Outcats were entrusted to guard, among other things. Though it had cost them more than their very lives, they felt as though after thousands of years of banishment, it had all been worth while. For now was the time of revenge.

"Behold the sacred hair ball of king Tabby the fourth."

"In the sacred scrolls it is smelt that they who are truly the leaders of Frankenstein's brood, will guard the hair ball until they are enlightened enough of the time cometh that they will know it's uses."
Slate closed the holy book, paused a moment, placed it to rest on the small table offered in the cell. Standing he looked at the Cat who sat across from him.

"Well my son, what do you think?"
The Cat looked up at the powerful figure and said;

"I thought it started out OK with all those cats running around and getting
into trouble, then when it went kind of, aw you know, black and white, and I fell asleep."

Slates eye opened wide and his back arched over so much he looked even larger, if that was possible.
He then smiled a mean smile, and pounded twice on the table.

"Well you think about that offer I made you and we'll talk again." And walked towards the now opened door. Over his shoulder he added, "soon."

Before the doors resealed Ace Rimmer was brought back into the cell and deposited on his cot, in what could be called less than perfect condition. Two large nasty looking cat guards, with the worst fur ever, looked down at the Cat as though looking at dinner. Eventually they left the cell and resealed the door behind them.

"Oh man," said the Cat looking over at the beat up Ace and asked. "Why did they do this to you. Why did they want to know?"

"That's the funny part of it old fruitcake," an unhealthy cough ripped from Ace's lungs. "They didn't ask me anything." With that he fell into unconsciousness.
He drifted back ten minutes later and seemed rested enough for the Cat to fill him in on their conversation.

"What was that deal that the big guy was talking about while I was entertaining the troops?"

"Him? That nut. He has some whacked out idea that an entire Cat race lives on a planet not far from here. And that somehow with my help he can entice them to follow his stern but righteous butt."

"Really? An entire race of Cat people, that's fantastic. You must be thrilled as a girl with a new ball gown on dance night." Ace's enthusiasm
was almost catchy.

"You really think so. Personally I hate the idea of spending any more time than I have to with good old Slate and his merry band of psychos."

"Oh. Sorry chum I didn't know you felt that way. I just thought a young chap like yourself, would have a field day with a planet filled with his own kind." Ace said as he nursed a cracked rib. "Just out of curiosity what did the tough old cat offer you that you turned down? To help his take over a planet and have you serve as his butler from then on?"

"No actually he said that I was a direct descendant of some dead dude called Tabby the fourth or something like that. And that if I played my cards right that I could become the rightful King of all the Cat people."
Ace looked at him wide eyed and astonished. Then smiled a knowing smile. "And you don't believe the old wind bag as far as you can toss him.
Right?"

"No actually he seemed pretty sincere. He had the Holy book and knew it well. Kinda reminded me of an old religious guy that I used to know."
He paused. "In some ways."

"Well lad you must have your reasons." Ace adjusted his pillow. Me I think I can use a couple of hours shut eye. If you don't mind."
With that Ace closed his eyes, and spoke with them that way.

"I think I'll try about dreaming that I'm a king." He joked. "That's all the chance some of us get at the job."
Without another word Ace seemed to fall into a gentle slumber.
Leaving the Cat awake and alone in a cold metal room, with only his thoughts to keep him company. For some, alone late at night, their thoughts are all they need. Especially when their thoughts are of better days ahead.