An unfortunate illness has begun to spread among a station's cat population, both skitties and transfers. People begin trapping the animals to test for the illness and get them treated, at least until an inoculation can be found. Spay / Neuter, treat, release. -- Anon Guest
[AN: The Skitties are self-regulating with some genes added for population control. Sort of related to how locusts swarm]
"This is Fernweh Station broadcasting a general distress call. This is a quarantine zone. Do not dock if you have cats or Skitties on board your vessel. We have detected a dangerous new infection that targets felines, felinoids, and like species[1]. It is deadly. We are searching for solutions, and you may only dock if you have them, and you do not have cats of any kind on board." There was an option to download a full documentation of the infection, replete with every offensensitivity warning they could provide.
It was a nasty disease, and the lingering pain its victims suffered was not for the weak of heart.
On Fernweh, it was easy to capture and contain pocket colonies of Skitties by sending out alarm pheremones. They could be isolated, have samples taken, and remain in their respective pods until something new happened. That vector of social contact was closed. The problem was the 'regular' cats. Feral or tame, they didn't like being captured and they really didn't like being isolated in little habitats. They hissed and spit at the people trying to take samples. Some used their claws against the attending Mediks' livesuits, no matter how ineffectual that was.
The owners of the pet cats were even worse.
"My little Floofikins has been in her Catio since I got here. She's had no contact with any other feline, I would know it!"
Medik Rabbiiz took a deep, calming breath. "Then you won't mind letting us take samples. We have been desperate to find an uninfected feline to clone so we can observe the initial infection stage. If we knew how it spread..."
"You're not cloning my baby!"
Medik Rabbiiz finished hir scans and sighed. "We most certainly are not. Your little Flooffikins is also infected with the disease. I'm sorry. We're going to do everything we can."
This was suddenly not enough. "That can't be right! Scan her again. I demand you take every sample possible! You've got to have it wrong."
Denial. Bargaining. Anger. Depression... and sometimes around twice or more before they finally accepted it, and the palliative medications to at least keep the poor creatures comfortable.
It was all they could do. For now.
When the breakthrough came, care of a simulation cat from B'Nar, it was all hands out and about with the cure and the prevention. Hours after hours of injections, scans, samples, and finally the all-clear.
They took the time to spay the strays before releasing them back into their former habitats.
Let the Skitties do the pest control. Let the strays pursue the rest of their lives in peace. Those who had survived deserved it.
And dishes of mashed meat once in a while.
[1] Convergent evolution does interesting things to life forms.
[Photo by Volodymyr Tokar on Unsplash]
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