Catalyst_ A Tale of the Barque Cats - Anne McCaffrey [69]
How’d you find him? Jubal mouthed. But his father shook his head over the top of Sosi’s and pulled the jacket back together in front again.
For just a moment Jubal felt more lighthearted than he had in a long time. His pop was actually on their side. And then, from the other side of the jacket, something blurted and Pop dislodged Sosi enough to answer it.
“Ponty, you’d better make yourself scarce and hide my cat better than you hid his box, food, and toys. The goons found them and they are looking for you.”
The old man mumbled something into the com, took off the jacket and gave it to his son, who put it on. Not a good fit. The collar slid over his shoulder on the side where Doc was hidden, and Doc mewed in protest and started to try to climb out.
“Ow,” Jubal said. Sosi, delighted when she spotted the kitten, bounced up and down, and when they told her to hush up and act natural, she bit down on her fist to keep from squealing with excitement.
“If you want me to save your furry tail, you’d better behave yourself and stay still,” Pop said to the jacket’s bulge. “It’s okay, I’ll be right back and I’ll find a better place to hide you.” Then, “Okay, okay, I’ll find you something to eat too.”
He looked up at Jubal’s face, shook his head in mock disgust and said, “Cats!” then strode back into the market, turning back once to say, “Stay put. I’ll be right back.”
He was gone a long time. Jubal stood there in the hot leather jacket as the kitten settled and resettled himself inside the pocket, mewing when his claws caught in the lining, and sometimes in Jubal. Sosi, trying to help, wrapped her blue cloth around Jubal’s shoulders three times, but it still dragged on the ground. It did hide most of the jacket, however.
When Pop returned, he was wearing the long loose robe and head cloth of a Khafistani merchant, from which he produced a large bag.
“What took you so long?” Jubal asked.
“I had to have a pocket put in, didn’t I? For the merchandise? Give us a hug now.”
It was awkward and Jubal got scratched pretty bad during the transfer, but by the time Pop stood away, Doc was in the robe, the jacket was in the bag, and the contents of a smaller bag of dried fish, which had been in the larger bag, was in the kitten.
Jubal looked after them wonderingly. He thought the old man was for once really committed to taking a side regardless of profit. He’d gone to a lot of trouble for Doc, and now he’d be in a lot more trouble if anybody found out.
Not that Jubal would tell. He had other plans.
Beulah had been the one to suggest getting the press on their side. Before becoming a com officer, she’d been a comcaster for one of the big Galactic networks. For the most part, the news these people reported was local and was so stale by the time it made its way through the relays to the outlying worlds that it wasn’t worth bothering about. That was what the GG said anyway.
Also, the popular press, as it was called, was mostly only popular with the people affected by the news it reported. Folks on Sherwood didn’t care any more about what happened on Galipolis than Galipolitans cared what happened on Sherwood, unless somehow or other it affected prices or taxes or some other pan-galactic issue.
The GG kept people informed about that kind of thing. Most of the people on the colony planets and those traveling through space were somehow or other working for the GG. If something they didn’t like was happening, they usually found it more trouble than it was worth to say or do anything about it.
Galipolis didn’t depend on ships’ cats to keep the crew and cargo