Catfantastic: Nine Lives and Fifteen Tales Part 21

SKitty? d.i.c.k asked quickly, knowing that she was getting the sense of what was going on from his thoughts.

:Nice,: the cat replied, her attention momentarily distracted from the scurrying hints of movement that were all that could be seen of the kreshta. :Nice lady. Feels good in head, like d.i.c.k.: Feels good in head? he thought, startled.

"I don't think that there will be any problem, Captain," Dirk murmured to Singh, deciding that he could worry about it later. "SKitty seems to like the Lacu'un. Maybe they smell right."

SKitty flowed down off his shoulder and into his arms as he stepped forward to present the cat to the Lacu'teveras. He showed the Lacu'un the cat's favorite spot to be scratched, under the chin. The long talons sported by all Lacu'un were admirably suited to the job of cat-scratching.

The Lacu'teveras reached forward with one lilac-tipped finger, and hesitantly followed d.i.c.k's example. The Audience Hall was utterly silent as she did so, as if the entire a.s.semblage was holding its breath, waiting for disaster to strike. The courtiers gasped at her temerity when the cat stretched out her necka"then gasped again, this time with delight, as SKitty's rumbling purr became audible.

SKitty's eyes were almost completely closed in sensual delight; d.i.c.k glanced up to see that the Lacu'teveras' amber, slit-pupiled eyes were widened with what he judged was an equal delight. She let her other six fingers join the first, tentative one beneath the cat's chin.

"Such softa"" she said shyly, in musically-accented Standard. "a"such nice!"

"Thank you, High Lady," d.i.c.k replied with a smile. "We think so."

:Verrry nice,: SKitty seconded. :Not head-talk like d.i.c.k, but feel good in head, like d.i.c.k. Nice lady have kitten soon, too.: The Lacu'teveras took her hand away with some reluctance, and signed that d.i.c.k should return to his place. SKitty slid back up onto his shoulders and started to settle herself.

It was then that everything fell apart.

The next stage in the ceremony called for the rulers to take their seats in their five thrones, and the Captain, Vena, and Grace to a.s.sume theirs on stools before the thrones so that each party could present what it wanted out of a possible relationship.

But the Lacu'teveras, her eyes still wistfully on SKitty, was not looking where she placed her hand. And on the armrest of the throne was a kreshta, frozen into an atypical immobility.

The Lacu'teveras put her handa"with all of her weight on ita"right on top of the kreshta. The evil-looking thing squealed, squirmed, and bit her as hard as it could.

The Lacu'teveras cried out in paina"the courtiers gasped, the Advisors made warding gesturesa"and SKitty, roused to sudden and protective rage at this attack by vermin on the nice lady who was with kittena"leapt.

The kreshta saw her coming, and blurred with speeda"but it was not fast enough to evade SKitty, gene-tailored product of one of BioTech's finest labs. Before it could cover even half of the distance between it and safety, SKitty had it. There was a crunch audible all over the Audience Chamber, and the ugly little thing was hanging limp from SKitty's jaws.

Tail high, in a silence that could have been cut up into bricks and used to build a wall, she carried her prize to the feet of the injured one Lacu'un and laid it there.

:Fix him!: d.i.c.k heard in his mind. :Not hurt nice-one-with-kitten!: The Lacu'ara stepped forward, face rigid, every muscle tense.

Spirits of s.p.a.ce! d.i.c.k thought, steeling himself for the worst, that's b.l.o.o.d.y well torn ita"

But the Lacu'ara, instead of ordering the guards to seize the Terrans, went to one knee and picked up the broken-backed kreshta as if it were a fine jewel.

Then he brandished it over his head while the entire a.s.semblage of Lacu'un burst into cheersa"and the Terrans looked at one another in bewilderment.

SKitty preened, accepting the caresses of every Lacu'un that could reach her with the air of one to whom adulation is long due. Whenever an unfortunate kreshta happened to attempt to skitter by, she would turn into a bolt of black lightning, reenacting her kill to the redoubled applause of the Lacu'un.

Vena was translating as fast as she could, with the three Advisors all speaking at once. The Lacu'ara was tenderly bandaging the hand of his consort, but occasionally one or the other of them would put in a word too.

"Apparently they've never been able to exterminate the kreshta; the natural predators on them can't be domesticated and generally take pieces out of anyone trying, traps and poisoned baits don't work because the kreshta won't take them. The only thing they've ever been able to do is what we were doing behind the Fence: close up the building and fumigate periodically. And even that has problemsa"the Lacu'teveras, for instance, is violently allergic to the residue left when the fumigation is done."

Vena paused for breath.

"I take it they'd like to have SKitty around on a permanent basis?" the Captain said, with heavy irony.

"Spirits of s.p.a.ce, Captaina"they think SKitty is a sign from the G.o.ds, incarnate! I'm not sure they'll let her leave!"

d.i.c.k heard that with alarma"in a lot of ways, SKitty was the best friend he hada"

To leave hera"the thought wasn't bearable!

SKitty whipped about with alarm when she picked up what he was thinking. With an anguished yowl, she scampered across the slippery stone floor and flung herself through the air to land on d.i.c.k's shoulders. There she clung, howling her objections at the idea of being separated at top of her lungs.

"What ina"" Captain Singh exclaimed, turning to see what could be screaming like a d.a.m.ned soul.

"She doesn't want to leave me, Captain," d.i.c.k said defiantly. "And I don't think you're going to be able to get her off my shoulder without breaking her legs or tranking her."

Captain Singh looked stormy. "d.a.m.n it then, get a tranka""

"I'm afraid I'll have to veto that one, Captain," Erica interrupted apologetically. "The contract with BioTech clearly states that only the designated handlera"and that's d.i.c.ka"or a BioTech representative can treat a shipscat. And furthermorea"" she continued, halting the Captain before he could interrupt, "it also states that to leave a shipscat without its designated handler will force BioTech to refuse anymore shipscats to Brightwing for as long as you are the Captain. Now I don't want to sound like a troublemaker, Captain, but I for one will flatly refuse to serve on a ship with no cat. Periodic vacuum purges to kill the vermin do not appeal to me."

"Well then, I'll order the boy toa""

"Sir, I am the Brightwing's legal advisora"I hate to say this, but to order d.i.c.k to ground is a clear violation of his contract. He hasn't got enough hours s.p.a.cing yet to qualify him for a ground position."

The Lacu'teveras had taken Vena aside, d.i.c.k saw, and was chattering at her at top speed, waving her bandaged hand in the air.

"Captain Singh," she said, turning away from the Lacu'un and tugging at his sleeve, "the Lacu'teveras has figured out that something you said or did is upsetting the cat, and she's not very happy with thata""

Captain Singh looked just about ready to swallow a bucket of heated nails. "s.p.a.cer, will you get that feline calmed down before they throw me in the local brig?"

"I'lla"try sira""

Come on, old girla"they won't take you away. Erica and the nice lady won't let them, he coaxed. You're making the nice lady unhappy, and that might hurt her kittena"

SKitty subsided, slowly, but continued to cling to d.i.c.k's shoulder as if he was the only rock in a flood. :Not take d.i.c.k.: Erica won't let them.

:Nice Erica.: A sudden thought occurred to him. SKitty-love, how long would it take before you had your new kittens trained to hunt?

She pondered the question. :From wean? Three heats,: she said finally.

About a year, then, from birth to full hunter. "Captain, I may have a solution for youa""

"I would be overjoyed to hear one," the Captain replied dryly.

"SKitty's pregnant againa"I'm sorry, sir, I just found out today and I didn't have time to report ita"but sir, this is going to be to our advantage! If the Lacu'un insisted, we could handle the whole trade deal, couldn't we, Erica? And it should take something like a year to get everything negotiated and set up, shouldn't it?"

"Up to a year and a half, standard, yes," she confirmed. "And basically, whatever the Lacu'un want, they get, so far as the Company is concerned."

"Once the kittens are a year old, they'll be hunters just as good as SKitty isa"so if you could see your way clear to doing all the set upa"and sort-of wait around for us to get done rearing the kittensa""

Captain Singh burst into laughter. "Boy, do you have any notion just how many credits handling the entire trade negotiations would put in Brightwing's account? Do you have any idea what that would do for my status?"

"No sir," he admitted.

"Suffice it to say I could retire if I chose. Anda"Spirits of s.p.a.cea"kittens? Kittens we could legally sell to the Lacu'un? I don't suppose you have any notion of how many kittens we can expect this time?"

He sent an inquiring tendril of thought to SKitty. "Uha"I think four, sir."

"Four! And they were offering us what for just her?" the Captain asked Vena.

"A more-than-considerable amount," she said dryly. "Exclusive contract on the forcefield applications."

"How would they feel about bargaining for four to be turned over in about a year?"

Vena turned to the rulers and translated. The excited answer she got left no doubts in anyone's mind that the Lacu'un were overjoyed at the prospect.

"Basically, Captain, you've just convinced the Lacu'un that you hung the moon."

"Wella"why don't we settle down to a little serious negotiation, hmm?" the Captain said, n.o.bly refraining from rubbing his hands together with glee. "I think that all our problems for the future are about to be solved in one fell swoop! Get over here, s.p.a.cer. You and that cat have just received a promotion to Junior Negotiator."

:Okay?: SKitty asked anxiously.

Yes, love, d.i.c.k replied, taking Erica's place on a negotiator's stool. Very okay!

The Game of Cat and Rabbit.

by Patricia Shaw Mathews.

There is a wrong smell by the ship. We are docked at Luna City s.p.a.ceport; the ma.s.s-driver Lady Day, her captain, and her crew. That's me, Smitty, Human Morale Officer and Pest Control Officer. Tail high, I prowl the pressurized backstage area, and sniff suspiciously about the ships and dockers, machines and cargo. I stop to renew my acquaintance with the old tom who runs the s.p.a.ceport; a sad case. He washed out because he couldn't handle zero-gee. Not every cat can. But he and I have a kitten aboard the Outward Bound; enough to make anyone purr.

Herself comes and scoops me up into a duffel bag, saying "Sorry, Smitty, old girl" as she lopes along the ramp. Nose to the vents, I yowl my outrage. Doesn't she remember how I hate the cat-bag? She puts the bag in its holder on the crash couch and fastens it down. I know what happens when she does that! Our auxiliary rocket boosters shake and make a loud noise that makes my teeth and bones ache. I feel crushed as if Herself had rolled over me. Then the noise and the heavy feeling stops slowly, Herself zips open the bag, and I sail out into our cabin, as light and fluffy as a kitten in one-tenth gee. That's fun.

Herself comes to pick me up, as brazenly as if she had never made a loud noise and locked me in a duffel bag and made me feel crushed. Well, one more time. I show her my claws.

"Poor Smitty," she agrees. "Liftoff is awfully hard on a little cat, isn't it?"

That's better. With a haughty sniff to let her know I have my pride, I let her tickle me under the chin and along the jawbone where it feels so good.

Herself is talking again, more to herself than to me. " 'Luna to Ceres in an economy orbit, cheap on fuel, risky on micrometeorites and radiation, what can possibly go wrong, Miss Weaver?' Captain Weaver to those landlubbing idiot groundhogs! Well, three circuit failures in eight hours is what!" If she were a cat, her back would be arched and the fur standing up on it.

I start thinking of the litter box. Liftoff always makes me do that. I wiggle out of her arms and over to the place on the back bulkhead. Something smells wrong, very badly wrong. Herself is still bouncing off first one bulkhead and then the other, very careful not to hit any of the many fine hiding places and exploring places stacked along them. "Another hiss-spit-yowl-meow short circuit!" Herself yowls again. "And not a Great Cat Blasted trace that shows up on any of my instruments."

This is human business. My business is with the wrong smell that hops around the Lady Day from here to there but never makes itself known.

My litter box is not real sand. It's a sort of plastic that gives under your paws but doesn't scatter when you dig in. I use it and leave; a little door under the box starts humming and sucks the thing away. It's too small for a cat to explore, and Not A Cat Place anyway. Herself stops to scratch my ears. "Good Smitty," she says. The wrong smell is hopping around under her very own chair, and I have to stop it. Narroweyed, I watch for a while, catching the faintest of movements out of the corner of my eyes: I raise my hindquarters and wind them up, thena"let spring. I am right on top of the wrong smell, but oddly enough, I miss. Oh, well, it happens. Vectors are hard to judge when you change gravities so much.

Daintily I push off one bulkhead, hook a claw into a hammock's webbing, and settle down for a good wash. Pest Control Officer on a vacuum-hopper like the Lady Day is a soft berth. There were no pests imported to either Luna, the Habitats, or the Belt, only pets; and any varmints that sneak aboard are easily dealt with. We s.p.a.ce the rats. Without pressure suits. And now I am a pest control cat. A-hunting we will go! Tally ho!

Herself is annoyed, and spits and yowls some more. She's been poking into the control and instrument boards that line the bulkheads with some odd human detachable claws, and muttering under her breath like an upset cat. I wish I could bring her a nice fat fresh mouse to make her feel better. Whatever she's trying to catch, I can't smell it. Unless she's also trying to catch the wrong smell? But anyone with a nose can tell it's nowhere around where she is now.

She picks me up by the midsection and dumps me halfway across the cabin. "Not now, Smitty. Go play somewhere else!" she snarls, and mutters "preferably in the depressurized hold."

That place is not for cats either, unless the blinking light by the air lock is on and the humans are coming and going without pressure suits. Herself is only in a tight coat of artificial fur that covers all but her paws: (She is holding people-things. in her back paws and is playing with the instrumentation and the control board with her front paws. She can change her claws and her fur, but she doesn't have any of her own, nor any tail. But the things she changes are a lot of fun to watch.) She is upset. It is human business. My business is finding the wrong smell, and I wouldn't be a cat if I let a little thing like Herself's moods get in my way. I sniff and prowl until Herself straightens up, gives one more growl, and says, "All right, Smitty, all right! I'll feed you!"

Well, hunting means food and food means hunting to my ancestors. With another sniff, I follow her to the food bag. The wrong smell is very strong around there, but it is not a bad-food smell. It is a strange-prey smell. The food bag has been chewed. Herself looks angry at me, but I do not chew the bag. Plastic tastes nasty.

The food is almost too sticky to eat, and it gets in my whiskers, but it is totally delicious. Strange things happen to your sense of smell in no-weight, but humansa"clever beings!a"mix food with sharp-smelling things called spices to make it smell right. I go for another wash, and then I see a Thing out of the corner of my eye, over by my food bowl. The Thing smells like what I am smelling all day! Once again, I pounce.

Then Herself starts to laugh. "Oh, Smitty," she says, picking me up, "I'm sorry I snapped at you. You're just having fun, aren't you? I wish I were a little cat and could take things as easily as you do." And while she is cuddling me, the bad-smell-thing finishes my cat food, goes over to the control board and starts nibbling at the long strings between the lights.

It is cold in the ship. The lights are nice and dim, but they flicker and get strange and flicker again. The air is stuffy and the water tastes nasty. Herself is very worried. She keeps poking at all the buzzing and flickering things, taking off large sections of bulkhead and looking at the long strings behind them. She makes no more snarls and growls; she sits on the back bulkhead and howls, with water on her face the way humans do.

I love her and want to help; but the wrong-smell thing is being very busy. It is always at the long things. I try to catch it, but it is very fast. Sometimes it does not move at all, and then I cannot see it. When I do, it runs away.

It is eating all my food. I cry to Herself. She picks me up and wrinkles her face. "I don't know where all that cat food is going, Smitty. You must be growing a new coat of fur," she says, sounding very confused. The bag is not very full. She shakes her head. "Looks like half rations for you until we hit Ceres," she says. "If we ever get there!" She pours out a very small amount, gives me a little from her own squeeze bag, then gets back to work. I eat, catnap, then go back to work myself.

The bad-smell thing is poking around the place where she has the bulkhead open. Taking careful aim, I spring. I am between Herself and the string the bad thing has. I land. A hit! I have a mouthful of soft fur and loose skin, and my claws feel the tip of a long, long ear. I sniff deep.

In Luna City there are rabbits. Humans keep them for meat, fur, and leather. This is not a rabbit smell. But it is a rabbit feel under my paws. O-KAY! Now I've got you, you son of a rodent! Gleefully I stalk this long-eared varmint, following it everywhere. I know where it is being before it is being there, and go there first. I head it off at the bulkhead and I head it off at the food bowl. Herself wipes her face with a long piece of artificial fur and closes up the bulkhead. The rabbit-thing is in there. I pounce!

"Smitty!" she screams. "Look out!"

I hear a sizzle, a snap, a crackle, and a pop! It goes right through my fur and into my body, making it snap and sizzle, too. I jerk two or three times while the smell of singed fur reeks in my nose. I am hurt!

But so is the thing. I see it crawl feebly into the main cabin and over to Herself's pressure suit. It starts chewing again. I never know why it chews everything so much, but I see a dim glow around the string it chews. I see this glow when I am hurt. I hurt too much to chase the thing now. I lie on the bulkhead and mew. Herself brings me a bulb of water and squirts it into my mouth. In s.p.a.ce you drink from the bulb like a kitten with its mother. Herself is my mother in s.p.a.ce, I think; and I try to purr. She smiles, which is a human purr, and pets me. Then she sighs and sets me on the crash couch and gets up again.

She is going to the pressure suit! The bad-smell thing is there. The string it chewed has that glow that means it will hurt. With one last effort I spring for the suit and sit on it. I growl. Herself sighs again and tries to pick me up. She must not touch this suit! It will hurt her, and the bad thing will get away! I show her my claws.

She says, "Oh, stop this nonsense, Smitty; this is an emergency." She tries to set me aside.

Now I spring at her! All my claws are out, and I bite her, too. She stares at me and starts to howl. Water comes from her face. "Smitty, that's too much! I hate to do this to you, but I have to lock you up. You've gone s.p.a.ce-nuts from the strain. And the bad water and the bad air and the fear and the colda ." she shakes. "They'll make me put you to sleep, Smitty. You don't want that!"

She means "kill." Humans are prissy about that. I do not want her to kill me. But I have a job to do, too. I growl and show her my claws again and sit on the suit. I do not let her near it. She draws a stun-gun. I stare at her. She will not touch this suit! It is Not For Humans until I take care of the bad rabbit-thing! I stare and stare. She looks at me, puzzled, and says, "I think you're trying to tell me something, Smitty. I always heard cats were a little bit psychic, but to tell you the truth, I don't have the least idea what's going on here."

Then the rabbit thing moves and I see it again. I pounce. This time I have it! I shake it back and forth until it squeals like a rabbit in the jaws of a cat. Herself is staring at me, gun dangling from one paw. "Maybe I've gone s.p.a.ce-nuts?" she asks me. But I know better.

I shake it and shake it and play with it until I see drops of blood come out of it and fly across the cabin. Several hit the bulkhead. Herself drops the gun, breathes deeply, and straightens up. "All right, Smitty, I'll take it from here," she says. She takes the thing in her hands and her eyes get very big. She goes over to the cat-bag and zips it in. It will eat the bag. I hope it does! But that will be a big job even for that chewy rabbit.

She picks up the blood in a little squeeze-dropper and hurries over to her lab bench. She puts it in one of the machines and stares and stares. Then she starts to laugh.

"A rabbit! I do not believe this!" She goes over to the cat bag again and very carefully feels inside. She yelps. I could tell her the thing bites. She feels inside again. She gets a flashlight and looks inside. "I don't see him," she says, puzzled. "But I feel him." She zips up the cat bag again and goes back to the lab. I am on the crash couch having a good wash.

Then she makes a very loud and happy noise. She jumps and twirls around, making loud human happy sounds. I understand some of it. She is singing, "You caught me a wabbit, caught me a wabbit, caught me a wabbit, a wabbit you caught!" I hear those sounds when she listens to the Luna City Opera, but it is not about rabbits. I like her song better. She picks me up and hugs me to her. "And, Smitty, you're a little feline hero, you know that? And the scientists are going to love you to bits and pieces. I wonder what that critter's secret is?"

Then she goes to her own food and brings out a nice fat juicy fish steak and gives me half, and cuddles me until I get tired of it and jump down. Me for a good nap!