Catalyst_ A Tale of the Barque Cats - Anne McCaffrey [77]
The dream Pshaw-Ra spat in disgust. “Useless!” he said, sitting down to wash beneath his dream tail.
“Not really,” I told him. “That girl needs a cat. Your ship says that we—or at least you—are here. If the ship sees us, and she comes to rescue us, she will probably bring more fishie treats, just as Janina did. That would be good, wouldn’t it?”
“You do not fool me, catling. You wish her to come so you may escape on her vessel. I was not born yesterday, you know. I am ancient and wise to all manner of subterfuge.”
I thought the ship would probably stop anyway, and intended to do exactly as he suspected and hitch a ride back to it with the girl. But the dream ended with the ship gliding past our pointy pyramid vessel.
“Hey! That’s not the custom!” I said. “They’re supposed to stop when they see the Cat on Board sign, whether they have a cat or not.”
It became evident to us both over the course of our naps, our waking moments, our meals, our snoozes, our snacks, our rest periods, our games (he wasn’t as intriguing to chase as my own tail but his moves were somewhat less predictable), and our sleeps, that the custom had changed. More of the sterile, cheerless, catless ships passed us and none slowed, engaged us in their tractor beams, or made any attempt to see if we were indeed aboard and adrift as advertised.
Pshaw-Ra was perplexed. “Are you somehow warning them away?” he demanded. “Because this has never happened to me before. The ships always stop and try to save me, but I hide while they try to find me. They sometimes leave behind offerings of food, and the kefer-ka return with them to their ships.”
“So that’s how you spread the bugs,” I said. “But I haven’t warned anybody. How could I when there’s no other cat on board?”
But then the day came when another ship approached. Its course seemed in opposition to the ones we’d been encountering. It had a cat on board. This time when Pshaw-Ra entered into his dream state to board the ship, I easily entered into it with him. I could not understand how I was able to do this, until we entered into the dream mind of the other cat and saw his world. Then I understood that I had an inherent connection that must have given me an advantage. Across his dish was inscribed his name: SPACE JOCKEY. My sire.
The dish looked as if it had just been filled, crunchy nuggets of the Barque Cat fleet’s favorite mealtime treat mounding gently in the middle. In another corner of the room a sparkly pond of clear, fresh (for a spaceship) water shimmered with the very slight vibration of the ship’s propulsion system, beckoning, beckoning. A comfy, fluffy bed lay empty. In the dream, I looked out from the shadows. Above me was the rectangular berth of the CP, in front of me a barricade of cat toys.
I won’t let them take me, my sire was thinking. I was unsure whether he was dreaming that he was hiding or whether he actually was and I was picking up his thoughts rather than his dreams. But I could feel his fury and his fear. After all I’ve done for them, how can they treat me like this? They think I don’t know, but I overheard them on the com to Galipolis. Impound, they said. My orderly argued against it, but he is of very low rank, despite the fact that he is my only human voice among the crew. No more valuable kittens, he said, and then the captain told him that my offspring were being impounded too, and my entire harem of cosmic queens. They think we’re infected with something. They want to “test” us. But my orderly asked if they would then return us, and the captain shook his head. “Not likely, Freeman,” he said. “If he’s not infected when they take him to the lab, after the contact with the contaminated beasts, he will be.”
Nobody knows this ship like I do. As soon as someone opens this door, I will hide where they’ll never find me. I’ll miss my regular feedings but I can live on those delicious shiny bugs. There seem to be more since the last station. Besides, if I eat them all up, then my ship will be clean