Catalyst_ A Tale of the Barque Cats - Anne McCaffrey [78]
Then Space Jockey and his ship faded into my old nightmare of the field behind the barn on Sherwood and the wild canine carrying Git in his mouth.
“Another one passed us by without attempting to board,” Pshaw-Ra observed aloud, interrupting my sleep.
“Just as well since they’d have to turn us over for impound with the rest of the ships’ cats,” I told him, surprised to find that he had not picked this up for himself. “You mean you didn’t get that? I thought you read everyone and knew everything.”
“Of course I did,” he said, stretching. “I was testing you.”
“Sure you were,” I replied. “We’re going to be out here for an eternity all by ourselves if this keeps up. I think universal domination may take a bit longer than you planned.”
“You’ve fraternized with humans far more than I have. What is this impound like?”
“I think it’s fatal,” I said. “At least, my sire seems to think so. My mother has always said he is a very brash and bold cat, a fighter, but he was frightened. Was going into hiding. Impound must be a very bad thing. I think it’s got to do with what I overheard the vet and Kibble talking about—a disease. I showed them that what worried them came just from eating the shiny bugs—the kefer-ka, as you call them. But someone seems to have decided those are dangerous too and is trying to impound them as well.”
“Hmmm,” Pshaw-Ra said, finishing his stretch. “What a nuisance. I had forgotten how troublesome humans can be.”
“Don’t you have any humans where you come from?”
“Only a few, the ones who were too devoted to us to leave when the rest of their people were resettled on other worlds. Ours recognized that they would be unable to lead full and satisfying lives without us and stayed put. Many of us were worried when the majority of the people and a lot of the cats were taken away, but in truth it served as a selection process. Only the most intelligent, discerning, sensitive, and loyal humans remained with us, and those served us well. We for our part dealt with them generously, allowing them to stroke our fur, granting them purrs on occasion, and permitting audiences at the ends of our naps.”
“It doesn’t sound much different from what we do,” I said.
“Ah, but our attendants never dreamt of trying to impound us. They submitted to us in all things. Eventually.”
I yawned. Submission took all the fun out of things, in my experience. When things submitted, it usually meant they were dead. Gone was the chase, the bounce and the pounce, the leap, the catch, the wrestling it to the floor. Submissive things didn’t initiate games, bring unexpected treats, or open new doors. I was surprised that Pshaw-Ra set so much store by it.
“You are very very young,” he told me, answering the thought I had not shared with him. “One day you will learn that you can enjoy nothing if you do not control it enough to guarantee that it does not betray you.”
Being in that ship with that old cat and his warnings was so boring that I slept a great deal, feeling my tail and fur grow longer and my life shrink to the size of that small cabin and corridor. Ships came with anxious cats who knew something bad was about to happen to them. Ships went, empty, sterile, sad, and catless.
I suggested we enter no more dreams. The men who impounded other cats might come for us too if we brought ourselves to their attention. Pshaw-Ra reset our course for his own world. We might as well enjoy shore leave while the rest of the universe went mad. Dispirited by the increasingly catless void of space, I slept.
And unbidden, when I had all but given up hope, my boy came to me at last.
CHAPTER 19
Jubal spent the first day out of Galipolis fuming and frustrated. Sosi burst into tears in the middle of chores and would not be distracted. Her grief for Hadley was noisy and angry, and it made him feel worse than ever about Chester, not to mention Chessie, the kittens, and the rest of the poor