CAPTAIN KAYATO AND THE CATSAIRS – SCARFBALL JAM
Copyright 2025 Brent Alles / Just B Cuz Productions
The intercom buzzed. “We located the scarf!”
Captain Kayato sat up in his cardboard box bed. He had a real one, of course, but being of an alien race descended from felines (rather than, say, primates), some habits stuck.
It was Sam Antha on the intercom, communications officer of the Freedomquest. Her fraternal twin sister Dean Nah, the ship’s engineer, stood beside her when Kayato arrived on the bridge. Sam’s fur was black and white. Dean’s – orange and white. One excitable, one not.
Also present was First Mate “Big” Bill. He was a huge, orange-furred felinoid obsessed with lasagna. Definitely unique! Next to him stood their newest recruit. Rikki Rocket, a human “tween” girl abducted by the evil Osaverans and rescued from their prison labs by the Catsairs. A silver bionic eye gleamed on her face. She’d been through a lot.
The Catsairs’ mission? Recover cultural treasures stolen by the Osaverans (gelatinous tyrants with a hoarding problem). The Catsairs latest target was the Sacred Scarf of Glorix.
“It’s on Veltraxis,” Sam said. “Osaveran-controlled.”
“Arrr! Perfect,” Kayato said, licking a tuft of fur back into place. “We’re gonna go get it!”
His plans always sounded foolproof. They rarely were.
– – – – –
Hours later, the Catsairs were surrounded by fifty laser rifles in the Veltraxis Scarf Archive.
Kayato had burst through the ventilation shaft yelling, “FOR GLORIX!” Only to land in a display case. Rikki tripped a laser grid. Dean hacked the security system backward. Bill ate an emergency ration bar that triggered the building’s allergen alarms. Sam accidentally knocked over a priceless holographic statue while trying to signal retreat.
Now, thrown into a sleek prison cell, they sulked.
“I have to say,” Bill said, flopping onto a plush cot. “This is one of the nicer ones.”
“Be quiet,” Dean muttered.
A strange alien approached. Tall, curly-haired, slightly bulging eyes. He wore a flowing jacket, shiny boots, and a ridiculously luxurious scarf that shimmered with ambient lighting.
“Who be ye?” Kayato growled.
“You may call me Tombaker. I’m Vantari.”
“Shapeshifters,” Sam hissed.
“Indeed. We prize aesthetic mimicry. I bought that scarf from the Osaverans fair and square. It ties the look together.”
“It was stolen from Glorix!” Rikki snapped.
“Well, the planet’s dust now,” Tombaker said. “Not much use crying over vaporized civilizations.”
“We aim to return it to the survivors,” Kayato said.
Tombaker smiled. “You’ll find that difficult from a prison cell. But I’m a sportsman. I propose a game.”
He gestured. A holovid flickered on. A gymnasium. Players floated midair, suspended by extremely long scarves wrapped around their necks. A massive orange ball zipped between them. The reason for the scarves was apparent: the gymnasium floor was made of spikes.
“The sport is called Scarfball. Sentient scarves bond with players to keep them off the spiked floor. It’s quite a rush.”
“Looks like basketball,” Rikki said, “if the floor had murder on it.”
“You win,” Tombaker said, “and the Sacred Scarf is yours. Lose? I keep your ship.”
“No deal,” Kayato said. “We’ll never give up our ship!”
“Well, you’re in jail,” Tombaker replied. “So really, I’m being generous.” He gave a melodramatic bow. “Besides, I do love a proper spectacle.”
The Catsairs huddled. Nods. Shrugs. One extremely reluctant tail twitch.
“Arrr. We’ll play your stupid game,” Kayato said.
– – – – –
In the locker room, the scarves bonded with the players. Rikki yelped as hers zipped around her neck, lifting her off the ground.
“It’s itchy,” Dean complained.
“Better itchy than impaled,” Sam replied.
“At least ye got stylish scarves,” Kayato grumbled. “Mine’s baby pink with glittery cartoon hamsters.”
“It’s adorable!” Rikki squealed.
“Humiliating!” Kayato hissed.
Meanwhile, Bill’s scarf strained to lift him. A Veltraxxian official nodded and snapped its tentacle, and a second sentient scarf was added. Bill bobbed up slowly like a helium blimp.
“Sweet! I’m like one of those alien spiders we fought that one time. You know, the Velkorran Weblords?” He grinned and sang a little tune. “Spider-Cat, Spider-Cat, does whatever a spider does because he’s…”
“Fat?” Sam offered.
“Well, I meant to say BOLD, but admittedly, that doesn’t fit the rhyme scheme. And besides, I’m not fat. I’m fluffy!” Bill corrected.
– – – – –
The Veltraxis Gymnasium buzzed with anticipation. The Sacred Scarf of Glorix hung above the court in a glowing orb. The floor spikes shimmered.
Tombaker’s team emerged and the crowd roared. The players, all wearing stylish and synchronized scarves, were known across the galaxy for their prowess. Klothor the Dense, a gravity-defying bruiser. Precedence, icy and precise. Yessimirr, a dazzling aerialist with afterimage trails. Drex-14, cyborg “sniper” with tether-scarf aim. And the one known only as “Twitch,” a wiry rogue with a snarling scarf.
Then, came the Catsairs. Visibly less coordinated, wobbling midair like balloons on strings. The crowd chuckled in sympathy.
The whistle blew.
The Veltraxxians scored their first goal quickly. After that, Precedence seemed to block every pass. Klothor slowed the air around Kayato, making him flail like he was stuck in molasses.
Against all odds, Bill somehow tied the score by cannonballing into the hoop while screaming, “FOR LASAGNA!”
After that, the Veltraxxians almost scored again but Sam intercepted Drex’s pass by sheer reflex and blind luck. Dean, in turn, blocked an attempted goal with her face. “Ow,” she muttered. “But I helped!”
The game was almost over as the clock ran down. Timeout. Huddle. Panting.
“We’re getting crushed!” Sam wheezed.
“I welcome death,” Dean gasped.
“We can’t quit!” Rikki insisted. “We have to win!”
Kayato looked up at the Sacred Scarf. “Arrr… maybe I was never meant to lead this time. I seem to mess up everything.”
“You don’t mess up, Captain,” Rikki said. “You just… improvise defeat out of victory. Or vice versa. Depends on the day.”
All seemed lost, but at that exact moment, the Sacred Scarf pulsed. The orb holding it cracked. The scarf then EXPLODED from its casing, blazing across the sky like a meteor.
Gasps echoed around the gymnasium as the scarf chose to bond with… Kayato.
His hamster-scarf ignited, shimmering, transforming. The glitter was replaced by starlight embroidery and streaming tassels.
Kayato blinked. Then, he soared.
He zipped through Klothor’s gravity zone, spun past Drexx-14’s attempted intercept, and flipped backward into the goal hoop.
The scarfball erupted in fireworks. The clock hit zero.
“Game point,” the robot ref announced.
Stunned silence. Then, thunderous applause.
The Catsairs celebrated with their Captain. They had no need to hoist him up. The Sacred Scarf did it for them.
– – – – –
Later, they were face-to-face with the gamesmaster who took them to their limts. “Well, Tombaker,” Kayato said, clutching the Sacred Scarf, “I’ll be takin’ this.”
Tombaker sighed. “I suppose a deal’s a deal. But, if you ever want a rematch…”
“Arrr. No need. Scarfball Jam 2 would only disappoint.”
– – – – –
Back aboard the Freedomquest, the crew celebrated and set course to deliver the scarf to the Gloraxian refugees.
“I miss my scarves,” Bill moped. “Tried to make my own.”
“With what?” Sam asked.
“Mops and duct tape.”
Dean shrieked, “YOU USED THE LAST MOPS?!”
“It worked great until I tried to dunk and got stuck to the ceiling fan,” Bill added.
As the usual Catsair bickering resumed, their ship the Freedomquiest zipped into the stars. Our heroes were victorious. They stuck their necks out and were rewarded for it. They were ready for whatever next glorious (and probably ridiculous) challenge the galaxy would throw at them.