it's in the works but here goes
Here lie the author’s memoirs intact and unabridged. Mademoiselle silver tones, secret agent for the force, was still undercover and on the hard. She was traveling in disguise. She paused halfway in transit and lifted an ostrich feather upward to just below her feline eyes and drew the portion of disguise, disenchantment and illusion just below her feline eyes and over her silver furred jaw line. Here now, she mused in another circumstance could this be ever so beguiling.
She hesitates in the near shadows contemplating her next move, run or the mustachioed gendarme will see her. In a liquid movement she flashes by the abutment, the ancient stone now remained as only a testament to any of atrocities of a daunting history. Here she adjusts the ostrich feather cloak. The cloak is midnight blue, with scant silver shot trim; its maker was a sorcerer from Gamma Quadrant seven. She was told it still possessed secret powers, some of these were still unknown to her as she had pressed seven dacares in the creatures’ heavy paw that woe some day in time. She put all these known or unknown powers in this galaxy to the test this night.
Stealth, silence, grace, sinews gathered under velvety silken fur. Muscles gathered, answered their call, flexed and resumed motion. She traversed the distance from alleyway to window ledge, along such to the low hanging rooftop. Something in the near distance caught her peripheral vision. She turned her feline visage and here keen eyes caught a shadow like movement. Here, no up to the left, ah there in the half distance. She was almost certain she had witnessed a movement in the darkness. She peered relentlessly down forgotten alleyways and dark lonely streets.
Her contact was a ghost grey alley cat named Marauder Pendance. Pendance was a star captain with a four star cluster pasted across his well-muscled chest. He was feline in ancestry but owed some of his bloodline and fealty to a grizzled old star trader half a galaxy away. So there he ended his ancestries trace, way back to when the kittens prowled the old terran neighborhoods, resplendent in their concrete and wooden structures and manicured lawns. He was an old acquaintance and had saved her lustrous feline scruff on more than one occasion. She paused under the old sign, its tempting glow scandalously advertising the unwary traveler to partake of that den of iniquity. The Fallen Dove served its wasteful purpose with mocking glee, turning hearts cold with unrequited greed. The denizens of the dark met here for unscrupulous dealings, snagging up gaudy dealings, and stolen gems and trade wares.
Somehow she drew her breath in and listened for the recognized signal, at once she tuned in to the background noise, the elements of sound slowly shifting in her hearing range. She must remain cognizant. Then she distinguished something odd and selective, a pace above and beyond the dismal harbor sounds. She perked up intense feline ears. Yes, an octave higher, a tempo slower, on the same frequency, a low hum. Again she channeled her being into listening. The strange sound was now closer, only higher up above her head. She heard the sound again. A flash of motion and now, to the powers of her keen feline secret ears, welcome sounds, but this time the same pattern.
He walked from the shadows and into her heart. At first her eyes perceived just a silhouette. Then in the lilac moonlight of Santara nine, she witnessed her contact. The fedora was low across his brow; its telltale majestic style demonstrated that seductive style a style that could only be claimed by this male. Yes, this was a style that would always prove to be just like his dashing daring character. He wore a sharkskin suit and carried a lethal looking dark slim case. Tonight he wore the guise of a planetary musician temporarily planet side on a visa owned by a masquerading star captain. A whistle like noise escaped from his lips, his visage partially veiled by shadow. He spoke or rather intoned the necessary sounds that she must acknowledge.
Mademoiselle reflected his curiosity momentarily, and then swept a quadrant pass before his eyes. Signal released, she caught his paw and together they passed before the shadows to an awaiting sea rover docked at pier 29. The sea rover was damaged from another onslaught of the local authorities no doubt tipped off and bribed by local instigators. This was the best guise they were able to accomplish in their relentless daring hunger for the truth. Their pursuit would be mystified only momentarily by a clever ruse thought up by an old acquaintance of Commander Pendances’ that was stalling at the bar and buying them precious time. So together they conquered the stubborn locks and quadrant seals on the sea rover. Hastily they swept past the cockpit signals. The sea rover bobbed complacently in the restless waters of Santara nine. The motors would be sluggish with disuse, but magically fired up and purred for the Commander at first paw touch. If all went well they would be out of harms way and on towards the second half of their journey.
Mademoiselle was penchant and brooding as the waters plumed by from the transom of the old sea rover and they passed by the green foliage and dark shapes of old structures that encompassed their harrowing path. She was jolted awake when he brought out a crimson plate and wafted the familiar savory smells of yellow tail scat fish steamed and accompanied by her favorite fruits. “For the lady” he purred proudly. A delicatessen in a handsome captain’s coat tails he was. His get away vehicles were notorious for being well provisioned.
She reached forth a silver tipped paw and daintily retrieved a small piece of fish and vegetables. What must preclude this feast was a just a touch of Santara 9 knor berry wine. Chilled wine was perfect for tonight’s escape plan with a soft spiced taste remotely reminiscent of terran wines from old times. Her palette was rewarded with the fruity moist taste sweet of the delectable liquid ambrosia. They had barely partaken of the food, when he let forth a low growl. Something had followed then and it was gaining distance to their water craft. He twisted the wheel quickly skipping across the waters at a break neck pace. Whoever was following them was matching navigational skills to his well honed skills. He pondered his own fate and his lady loves in his own thoughts.
Perhaps if I could have dived just so, in this manor or then perhaps not, he mused in his inner thoughts while gripping the wheel like a maniac. He suddenly realized something familiar about that craft. “What kind of mockery could this be?” he mouthed aloud. “Jarvon you swamp demon!”