A cat and planet mouse T h a n o s K a l a m i d a s “I don’t know, but whatever it is... it’s coming.” Thanos Kalamidas An Ovi eBooks Publication 2025 Ovi eBookPublications - All material is copyright of the Ovi eBooks Publications & the writer C Ovi ebooks are available in Ovi/Ovi eBookshelves pages and they are for free. If somebody tries to sell you an Ovi book please contact us immediately. For details, contact: ovimagazine@yahoo.com No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior permission of the writer or the above publisher of this book A cat and planet mouse A cat and planet mouse Thanos Kalamidas Thanos Kalamidas An Ovi eBooks Publication 2025 Ovi eBookPublications - All material is copyright of the Ovi eBooks Publications & the writer C A cat and planet mouse T he universe was indifferent , as it always had been. Stars blinked and burned in distant voids, their ancient light indifferent to the struggles of humanity. Yet, in this vast silence, hu- manity thrived, relentless, curious, and always yearn- ing for more. It was in this spirit that the star cata- loged as XQ-7423 became more than just a point of light on a map. Around it orbited the planet Mouse, a dusty, wind-swept sphere inhabited by the Cefacus, a species whose mysteries challenged everything hu- manity thought it knew. “Approaching the anomaly,” Lieutenant Varro an- nounced, his voice steady but taut with the under- current of unease that permeated the control deck. Thanos Kalamidas Dr. Andes Falson sat strapped into her chair, her fingers twitching over the terminal embedded in her armrest. The holographic display projected before her eyes buzzed faintly, flickering through streams of data that meant little to anyone but her. “The readings don’t match,” she murmured, mostly to herself. Then louder: “Varro, adjust the lateral sen- sors. We need a clearer image.” Varro hesitated. “With all due respect, Doctor, the last time we pushed the sensors into that range, we fried half the grid.” “And this time, we have shields rated for anoma- lies,” Andes replied curtly. “Do it.” The hum of the ship’s systems deepened, and the hologram before her sharpened into clarity. The anomaly wasn’t a void or a burst of energy, as ini- tially thought—it was a structure. A faint, translu- cent dome, shimmering in the muted orange light of the planet’s sun, Old Cat. Beneath the dome, shapes moved. “Andes,” Captain Doyle’s voice crackled through the intercom. His tone, as always, carried the weight of authority. “Report.” A cat and planet mouse “Structure detected,” she said. “Definitely artificial. There’s movement inside. Confirming the presence of Cefacus lifeforms.” The captain paused before responding, his voice measured. “Do we have confirmation it’s safe to ap- proach?” Andes exhaled sharply. “Safe is relative. We didn’t come this far to stay at arm’s length, Captain.” Doyle’s reply was quick. “Acknowledged. Lieu- tenant Varro, prepare for descent. Andes, suit up. You’re leading the survey team.” * * * * * The surface of Mouse was a bleak expanse of ochre sands and jagged rock formations, broken only by the occasional sprawl of alien vegetation. The wind howled, carrying with it the faint scent of minerals and decay. Andes adjusted her helmet as the shuttle door hissed open, revealing the desolate landscape and the shimmering dome in the distance. “Stay close,” she instructed her team, her voice firm despite the crackle of static in the comms. They moved as a unit, the weight of their oxygen Thanos Kalamidas packs slowing their progress but offering a reassuring bulk in the otherwise vast emptiness. As they neared the dome, Andes noticed faint etchings in the rocks beneath their feet, lines that curved and intersected like veins of some long-dead creature. “Dr. Falson, you might want to see this,” Var- ro called out, crouching near one of the markings. “These patterns ...they’re not random.” She knelt beside him, tracing a gloved finger over the etchings. They were unmistakably Cefacus glyphs, similar to those she had been studying back at the Centre. But these were different, more intri- cate, layered in ways that suggested a depth of mean- ing yet to be unraveled. The dome loomed closer. Its surface rippled faintly, as though alive. The team hesitated, their movements slowing as a low hum began to vibrate through the air. “Andes,” Doyle’s voice cut through the comms. “Do you see that?” She did. Shadows moved inside the dome, tall, an- gular shapes that were not Cefacus. “Not possible,” she whispered. A cat and planet mouse Suddenly, the hum intensified, and the dome pulsed with light. The glyphs beneath their feet be- gan to glow, spreading outward in a cascading wave of luminescence. The team froze, their breaths audi- ble in the comms as the ground trembled beneath them. “Fall back!” Doyle’s command echoed in her ear, but Andes didn’t move. Her eyes were locked on the dome as the figures inside turned. They had seen her. “Andes!” Varro grabbed her arm, pulling her back as the ground gave way behind them, revealing a chasm lined with jagged crystals. The dome shim- mered once more before collapsing inward, its light extinguished in an instant. The team scrambled back to the shuttle, the silence of the jungle broken only by the sound of their la- bored breaths. As they lifted off, Andes stared out the viewport, her mind racing. “We woke something up,” she murmured. “And it knows we’re here.” Thanos Kalamidas I. The Anthropology Studies Centre of Mouse hummed with quiet intensity, its corridors filled with a low buzz of conversation and the faint hum of ma- chinery. Outside, the planet’s winds howled, carrying with them grains of ochre sand that scoured the facil- ity’s exterior. Beneath the surface, in the heart of the research center, Dr. Andes Falson stood in a dimly lit conference room, staring at a holographic projection of Cefacus glyphs. The symbols shimmered faintly, their intricate curves and intersecting lines hinting at meanings yet to be unraveled. Across the room, Darin Doyle, the field coordina- tor, paced with his hands clasped behind his back. His brow was furrowed as he skimmed through the latest report on his tablet. The room was silent save for the occasional tap of his fingers on the screen. A cat and planet mouse “Andes,” Doyle said, breaking the tension. His tone was measured but carried an edge of skepticism. “This report on layered meanings in their language ...are you absolutely sure about this?” Andes turned to him, her expression unreadable. “It’s not just a theory, Darin. Their language operates on multiple levels, surface communication, symbolic references, and, in some cases, hidden instructions. They aren’t just talking to us; they’re evaluating us.” Doyle frowned, his fingers tightening around the tablet. “Evaluating us for what?” “That’s what we need to find out,” Andes replied, stepping closer to the hologram. She tapped a sym- bol, magnifying it until its intricate details filled the room. “Take this glyph, for example. At first glance, it means ‘path’ or ‘journey.’ But when paired with this symbol...” she swiped to reveal another glyph “... it shifts to mean ‘choice’ or even ‘judgment.’ They’re not just sharing information; they’re embedding en- tire philosophies into their words.” Before Doyle could respond, an alert blared through the room. The hologram flickered and van- ished as red lights pulsed along the walls. A techni- cian’s voice crackled over the intercom. Thanos Kalamidas “Dr. Doyle, we have an urgent situation at the pe- rimeter. Unidentified movement detected. It’s... not Cefacus.” The tension in the room escalated instantly. Andes and Doyle exchanged a sharp glance before Doyle activated his communicator. “Details?” “Thermal imaging shows multiple entities ap- proaching the southern boundary,” the technician replied, her voice strained. “They’re humanoid, but... not entirely. Their heat signatures are erratic.” “Security team, assemble at the perimeter,” Doyle ordered. He turned to Andes, his expression grim. “You’re with me.” * * * * * The perimeter of the Anthropology Studies Cen- tre was marked by a series of towering pylons that emitted a faint, shimmering barrier, an energy field designed to deter any curious native wildlife. The southern boundary was the most exposed, flanked by jagged rock formations that created natural blind spots. Andes and Doyle arrived in a transport pod, its en- gines whining softly as it touched down on the dusty A cat and planet mouse ground. They stepped out, joined by a small security team armed with non-lethal pulse rifles. “What are we looking at?” Doyle asked the techni- cian stationed at the field monitor. She gestured to the display, which showed the heat signatures of five figures moving toward the barrier. Their outlines were distorted, shifting in ways that defied conventional biology. “Could be a glitch in the system,” the technician suggested, though her tone lacked conviction. “Glitches don’t move in coordinated patterns,” An- des muttered, her eyes fixed on the screen. As they watched, the figures stopped just short of the barrier. For a moment, everything was still. Then one of the figures raised an arm. The barrier flick- ered. “Is it malfunctioning?” Doyle asked, his voice sharp. “No,” Andes said, her heart racing. “They’re testing it.” The figure stepped closer, pressing a hand against the barrier. Sparks flew as the energy field resisted the contact, but instead of recoiling, the figure leaned Thanos Kalamidas in. The distortion around its outline grew more pro- nounced, and for a brief moment, Andes thought she saw a face, a pale, angular visage with eyes that seemed to glow faintly in the dim light. “Lower the barrier,” Doyle ordered. “What?” Andes turned to him, incredulous. “Are you out of your mind?” “We can’t learn anything with it up,” he shot back. “We need to understand what they want.” Reluctantly, Andes nodded. The technician deacti- vated the barrier, and the shimmering field dissolved. The figures stepped forward, their movements fluid yet unsettling. Up close, it was clear they were hu- manoid, but their features were eerily alien skin that shimmered like liquid metal, elongated limbs, and eyes that burned with an inner light. One of them stepped ahead of the others, its gaze locking onto Andes. It tilted its head, emitting a low, resonant hum that vibrated through the air. “It’s trying to communicate,” Andes whispered, stepping closer despite Doyle’s warning glance. The hum shifted, rising and falling in a pattern that Andes recognized instantly. “It’s their language,” she A cat and planet mouse said, her excitement barely contained. “But... it’s dif- ferent. More complex.” “Can you understand it?” Doyle asked. “Not yet,” Andes admitted. “But it’s...” Before she could finish, the figure raised its arm again. A pulse of light shot from its hand, striking the ground between them. The team scrambled back, weapons raised, but Andes held her ground. “It’s not an attack,” she said firmly. She crouched, examining the scorch mark left by the pulse. In the center of the mark was a glyph, glowing faintly. “What does it mean?” Doyle asked, his voice tense. Andes traced the symbol with her fingers, her mind racing. “It means... ‘Warning.’” The figures turned and retreated, their forms dis- solving into the shadows as quickly as they had ap- peared. “Warning about what?” Doyle demanded. Andes stood slowly, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “I don’t know,” she said. “But whatever it is... it’s com- ing.” Thanos Kalamidas II. The jungle surrounding the Anthropology Studies Centre was an enigma unto itself—a dense, teeming labyrinth of towering flora and creeping shadows that seemed alive with purpose. Andes stood at the edge of the observation post, watching the grainy video feed of something large moving through the under- brush. The motion was deliberate, almost predatory. “It’s not one of the locals,” Doyle muttered, his voice a mixture of tension and skepticism. He leaned over the monitor, squinting at the flickering shapes. “Too big, too fast.” Andes adjusted the feed, enhancing the contrast. The blurred silhouette came into sharper focus: something bipedal, with elongated limbs and a gait that suggested both grace and menace. “And too de- liberate,” she said quietly. Her finger traced the path on the screen. “It’s moving toward the city of Blob. Whatever it is, it’s not meandering.” A cat and planet mouse Doyle’s jaw tightened. “We need eyes on this, now.” * * * * * Within twenty minutes, a team was assembled. They were outfitted in lightweight combat suits, plas- ma rifles slung across their backs, and oxygen masks strapped securely to their faces. The air in the jungle was notoriously thick with spores and alien pollen that could cause hallucinations or worse, in pro- longed exposure. “Everyone clear on the parameters?” Doyle asked, his tone brisk. “We’re not here to engage. This is re- con. Observe, document, and report back. Andes, stay behind me.” Andes shot him a glare. “I can handle myself, Doyle.” “It’s not a debate,” he replied curtly. “You’re the lin- guist. I need you intact to tell us what we’re looking at.” The team plunged into the jungle. The air grew heavier with every step, the scent of alien vegetation thick and sweet, clinging to their skin. Every sound, every rustle of leaves, every distant chirp or howl seemed amplified, setting their nerves on edge. Thanos Kalamidas Andes moved carefully, her eyes scanning the ter- rain for anything that might hint at the source of the disturbance. It wasn’t long before they found some- thing. “Over here,” called Ensign Tovar, one of the field scouts. He was crouched near a cluster of massive, twisting roots, his flashlight trained on an object half-buried in the loamy soil. The team gathered around, their breaths shallow as they took in the sight: a Cefacus artifact, unmistak- able in its design. It was a sphere, roughly the size of a human head, etched with the same intricate glyphs Andes had been studying for weeks. Its surface shim- mered faintly, as if alive with an internal glow. Andes knelt beside it, her heart pounding. She reached out, her fingers trembling as they brushed against the cool, metallic surface. The artifact pulsed with light at her touch, and a low, resonant hum filled the air. “Step back!” Doyle barked, grabbing her arm and pulling her away. His voice was sharp, almost pan- icked. “It’s fine,” Andes began, but her words faltered as A cat and planet mouse the artifact’s glow intensified. A series of Cefacus glyphs appeared in the air above it, forming a holo- graphic projection that bathed the clearing in an ee- rie blue light. “It’s a message,” Andes whispered, her voice trem- bling with a mix of awe and fear. “But it’s not for us.” Doyle glanced at her. “What does that mean?” “It’s... it’s an alert,” Andes said, her eyes darting over the glyphs. She struggled to piece together the fragments of meaning embedded in the symbols. “It’s warning someone about a presence here. But it’s fragmented, like it’s been... corrupted.” Before Doyle could respond, a sharp crack echoed through the jungle. The team froze, their weapons raised. The sound came again, closer this time, fol- lowed by a deep, guttural growl that sent chills down their spines. “Contact!” one of the soldiers shouted, aiming his rifle into the shadows. The jungle erupted into chaos. Shapes moved in the darkness, swift, silent, and unmistakably hostile. Plasma fire lit up the clearing, the energy bolts siz- zling through the dense foliage. Thanos Kalamidas Andes ducked behind a fallen tree, clutching the artifact to her chest. Doyle crouched beside her, fir- ing into the shadows as he barked orders. “Fall back! Regroup at the secondary perimeter!” The team moved as one, retreating through the tangled undergrowth. Andes stumbled, the weight of the artifact slowing her down. Doyle grabbed her arm, half-dragging her as they ran. “What the hell were those things?” Andes gasped, her lungs burning. “Not Cefacus,” Doyle said grimly. “And not friend- ly.” They burst into a small clearing, their breath rag- ged. The hostile shapes had vanished, but the tension lingered, thick and oppressive. Andes looked down at the artifact, its glow now faint and flickering. “Whatever sent this message,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “it’s not the only one out here.” Doyle nodded, his expression grim. “And it’s not the only one watching.”