Catalyst_ A Tale of the Barque Cats - Anne McCaffrey [60]
I’ll share if you’ll guide me to you, I told him.
The passage will lead you to no one else, he replied.
So I led us forward.
However, a short distance beyond the docking bay, we met a blank bulkhead with no way a human could go but back the way she came.
What passage?
Then I saw a ramp running along one side of the large corridor from the deck to what was debatably the overhead. Swimming toward it, I saw a hole in the bulkhead, just big enough for a cat.
You’ll have to come out, I told the other cat. My human can’t get in to bring you the food.
You can bring it.
No, I can’t. I can’t carry it.
Find a way. And be certain, young one, that there is enough left to assuage the hunger of a famished elder when you reach me.
I then engaged in one of the charades I found it necessary to play with most humans in order to convey the simplest instructions. I dived for the treat packet again, bumping Kibble’s hand, but she had been watching me, and this time she held onto the prize.
Shaking her head inside the helmet, which moved very little, she said, “No, Chester. The treats are for the other cat.”
To emphasize his hunger and helplessness, the wily elder mewed pathetically from within the cat-sized passage, which magnified his voice and sent it echoing through the chamber where we stood wasting time.
I pawed at the food again, then started up, swam toward the hole, pushed off the bulkhead with my back paws, and repeated my assault on the fishie treats.
“That isn’t going to work, Chester. The poor lost cat doubtlessly has found an air pocket to hide in—some ships even have an onboard lifepod for the cat. This one is very odd, I must say. Once you located him, I was hoping to get close enough to use the treats to lure him into the life pouch. It will allow him to survive the airless conditions inside the rest of the ship. If he is too far for me to reach, by the time he comes out, he’ll have suffocated, and if you go farther than the hose will reach, little one, you too will die.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. It was good that although she had no telepathic link with either Mother or me, Kibble always treated us with courtesy and explained everything aloud as she would to another human.
It was also fortunate that the other cat was telepathic with me and understood what she said.
Humans! I don’t suppose she checked the oxygen levels before she left her craft? Neither of you have need of that clumsy attire. If you lose your tether it is of no consequence. Bring me the fishie treats. Bring me the fishie treats. You will bring me the fishie treats nyow…
I was willing to do this, but I couldn’t think how, with my teeth behind glass and my claws in gloves. Of course, according to the COB, I could take my helmet off. He would not be the one gasping for air if it were less wholesome than he claimed. So I said, with what I liked to think was considerable cunning, If there is oxygen enough for us to remove our helmets, then there is oxygen enough for you to come out of your hole and fetch the treats yourself.
I am weak from hunger and injured.
Then crawl out of your hole and fetch the treats and Kibble will tuck you into her pouch.
I knew this old cat was trying to trick me. I wasn’t sure how or why, but he did not sound injured any more than he sounded hungry and he certainly didn’t sound frightened. He was a sham all the way, I was sure of it.
He said nothing, and for long moments I thought perhaps I had been wrong and he had perished of hunger while I argued. However, after a bit,