Simpkin was happily searching for cracks in the simulated rocky skin which helped disguise the appearance of the cigar shaped intergalactic spaceship.

The cracks were caused by the occasional space debris, parts from junk ships, waste plastic jettisoned from resource rich planets and macerated asteroids, which their ship couldn’t always avoid.


He was attached by a long extensible life support tube, which supplied oxygen and reassuring cat melodies to his globe shaped helmet. His normal Lynx paws were augmented by substantial clawed gloves which worked magnetically and enabled him to crawl safely over the hull’s surface.

Attached on cords round his neck was a self regenerating pack of rock coloured space quality polyfilla. In one front paw he held a plasterer’s hawk and in the other a small pointed trowel. He was dabbing and pointing quite happily, often floating off backwards to admire his paw-work, but when the recall communication came through, he quickly retraced his steps to the cat-flap, next to which, the supply hose was automatically winding itself in.

He leant forward to try to get his collar radio button near enough to the flap activation mechanism.

“Miaow and bother!” he exclaimed, “why do the ship builders expect an alien to appear on the OUTSIDE of the ship, trying to gain unauthorised entry?”

Shortly his button connected and pushing his head globe against the flap, he succeeded in squeezing everything back into the ship.