Jack crouched behind a dumpster and thanked the stars no human had looked down yet. On their home world, the colony elders laughed at Jack's hobby: cataloging strange Earth foods worth smuggling home. Now Jack was here, nose twitching at a hundred new smells. One problem. Jack was a cat. An alien cat with six whiskers and a tail. Humans did not let cats taste their food. They shooed cats away. A food cart sat across the open square. Steam rose from folded shells packed with seasoned meat and bright toppings. Jack's mouth watered. The cart owner slid one to a customer, called it a taco, and took a coin. Jack crept closer, low to the ground. The owner spotted the movement and clapped twice. "Shoo! Go on!" Jack bolted back behind the dumpster, heart pounding. No food. Worse, now the owner watched the alley. Jack needed a plan. A cat could not buy a taco. But a cat could be adopted. Humans fed pets. Jack had seen it in the colony's old broadcasts. If Jack looked harmless and sweet, a human might carry Jack right to the food. Jack studied the square and found a better target. A woman sat on a bench beside a potted plant in a wheeled crate. The plant was strange even to Jack. Curling green stems held round fruits shaped like little pizzas, and small petal-faces peeked out like playful pets. The woman stroked one petal-face and smiled. She loved cute things. Perfect. Jack padded out, slow and soft. Jack sat, blinked twice, and gave the smallest, friendliest meow. The woman turned. Her eyes went wide. "Oh, aren't you darling?" She did not scream. She did not shoo. She reached down and scratched behind Jack's ears. Jack pressed close and purred, hiding the sixth whisker against her sleeve. "You hungry, sweet thing?" the woman asked. She broke a round pizza-fruit from the plant and held it out. Jack sniffed. Warm bread, melted cheese, a tang of tomato. Jack ate. The taste burst across Jack's tongue, unlike anything on the colony. Jack chewed slowly, memorizing every note. Catalog entry one. The woman laughed and fed Jack another bite. Then her thumb found the sixth whisker. She paused. Her smile stiffened. "What... what are you?" She leaned down and peered close at Jack's face, at the two extra whiskers no Earth cat owned. Her hand drew back. Jack froze with cheese still on their chin. The disguise had worked and failed at once. Jack had the first food logged. But now a human knew Jack was not a cat. The woman opened her mouth, half to call someone, half to ask again. Jack had to decide in one breath: run, or trust the first human who had ever fed them.

The woman stared at Jack's extra whiskers. Her mouth opened. Jack saw the word forming on her lips, a shout meant for other humans. If she spoke, strangers would gather. They would crowd the square and study every cat too closely. Jack could not catalog Earth food under so many eyes. One human knowing was a problem. A crowd knowing was the end. Jack did the only thing a sweet pet could do. Jack rolled onto their back and showed their belly. The woman's hand froze above her phone. "You're... playing?" she whispered. Jack chirped and batted at her sleeve, soft as a kitten. Confusion softened her face. The shout never came. But softness would not last. The woman still believed Jack was strange. Jack needed her to doubt her own eyes. So Jack made a gamble. Jack turned and bolted behind the bench, then pushed out a second cat Jack had kept hidden since morning. It was another alien from the colony, sent to watch over Jack. The scout had three flowing tails and six legs that moved in an eerie, flowing gait. Jack had begged the scout to stay out of sight. Now Jack needed the opposite. Jack nudged the scout into the open light. The woman gasped and stumbled back. Three tails. Six legs. No sixth whisker to squint at. This was no trick of the light. This was a monster. Her trembling hand lifted the phone and snapped a photo. Then she ran, crate and pizza-plant rattling behind her. The scout flattened its three tails, furious. "You exposed me," it hissed in the colony's clicking tongue. "Now a human has my image." "She has your image," Jack agreed. "Not mine. Not my whiskers. When she shows that photo, humans will hunt a six-legged beast with three tails. They will look for you. Not a plain little cat with one extra whisker." Jack licked a paw, calm now. "No one watches the harmless cat when a monster is loose." The scout stared, then understood. Jack had traded one human's suspicion for a wild hunt aimed in the wrong direction. The woman would warn others, yes. But her warning pointed away from Jack. "Go home and hide," Jack said. "I have food to find." The scout slipped into the shadows, tails low. Jack trotted off alone, cover restored, free to pass as an ordinary stray again. Jack followed a new smell on the breeze. It was cold and clean, salt and fish. Jack rounded a corner and found a tray left on a low table. Orange slices lay draped over small mounds of rice, glossy and fresh. Jack's nose twitched. Catalog entry two waited, close enough to taste. But the table stood inside a doorway, and a human in white watched the street. Jack crouched low. The cover was safe. The food was not yet won.

Jack crouched near the low table, eyes on the fish. The human in white guarded the tray. Orange slices draped over rice, glossy and cold. Jack had named it catalog entry two. Then a shadow fell across the stones. A creature stepped into the light beside Jack. It stood taller than any cat. Its skin was green and its grin was wide. "Hello," it said in a bright voice. "Would you like a piece of chocolate?" Jack stared. The thing held out a brown square in one clawed hand. It looked like no Earth animal Jack had catalogued. It spoke human words, but no human flinched or screamed. The guard in white did not even turn. Jack realized only Jack could see it clearly. Another visitor, then. Another creature wearing a borrowed shape, hunting Earth's strange foods. "No," Jack said. "I cannot eat chocolate. It is poison to this body." Jack had learned that in training. Chocolate killed the small Earth cats. Jack would not risk the cover-form on a dare. The creature shrugged and popped the square into its own mouth. "Suit yourself. I cleaned out the sweet shop already." It chewed, pleased with itself. "You want the salt-fish? That human never leaves. I have watched three days." It flicked its eyes to the tray. "But I know a better haul. Noodles. Hot red broth. Fried arms from the sea." Jack's whiskers lifted. A new food. A richer entry than cold fish. "Where?" "Come," the creature said, and turned. Jack followed, leaving the guarded tray behind. The decision was quick and clean. One rival would rather share than fight. That was worth more than a fish Jack could not reach. They crossed to a vent low on a wall. Steam poured out, thick with spice. Jack's nose burned and watered. Inside sat a bowl of noodles in deep red soup. Golden fried tentacles lay beside it, curled and crisp. The smell was loud and strange. Jack crept close and licked the broth. Fire spread across Jack's tongue. Jack jerked back, coughing, eyes streaming. But under the burn lived something rich and deep. This was a prize. Jack logged it at once. Catalog entry two: red noodle feast, spiced like a weapon, unforgettable. "Good, yes?" the creature laughed. "My colony wants it too. We race you to it." Jack froze. My colony. The creature was not a lone drifter. It belonged to a rival group, scouting the same foods for the same reason. They were competitors, and now they knew Jack's face. The creature loped away, grinning, into the steam. Jack sat alone with the burning bowl. The entry was won. But the easy days were over. Jack was no longer the only hunter on this street. Somewhere nearby, a rival colony was cataloguing Earth, and they had just seen Jack first.