Catalyst_ A Tale of the Barque Cats - Anne McCaffrey [91]
“You mean I should go in there on purpose?” I asked.
Before I could continue my own protests, Jubal sent such a forcible one it made my poor little head ache. No! Chester, no way are you going in there. They’ve got your mother and Hadley already. I just got you back and I’m not going to let them make a science experiment out of you. You’re not going. Period. Just forget it.
I relayed his sentiments to Pshaw-Ra.
“I thought you said you were not a slave. Yet if this human boy forbids you to do a thing that will free our kind from what he at least considers a dreadful fate, you just curl up and purr and say, Yes, master? You are a disgrace.”
“Jubal is scared I’ll be hurt because he loves me. If you cared about anyone but yourself, you’d understand that. In fact, if you have this great plan to free everybody, why am I the one who’s supposed to crawl tamely into the cage? Put the cat where the chatter is, Pshaw-Ra.”
“Foolish spawn of a tame pussycat, you think I fear to go among those puny humans?”
“You bet your slinky tail I do,” I said, lashing my own fluffy appendage.
“I simply thought you would want to be on the scene to rescue your mother and be praised by your human. That sort of thing seems to matter to you.”
I glared, tired of his catty remarks about my relationships. He was just jealous.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, catching that last thought. “I am not jealous of your extended childhood attachment to your mother, and certainly not of your unnatural bond with that oafish child.”
“Take that back,” I said.
“You are so easily distracted,” he said lazily. “I suppose I had better come along and supervise or you will botch everything. Now then, this is the plan …”
No! Jubal said, when Pshaw-Ra had spoken. No way, Chester. I am not turning you over to those goons. Or the skinny cat either.
Wait till you get to know him like I do, I suggested. You’ll change your mind and beg them to take him. You think he’s so smart. This is the kind of scheme he devises—ones that involve getting my tail stepped on.
Why would a cat even think up something like that?
He says because of his plan for universal domination, I replied, licking my paw and inspecting the result. So far it isn’t really working out for him. But he says we are approaching Galipolis now and I’m supposed to tell you to tell the others to put us in cages as if we’re your captives.
Only one problem with that, Jubal said. We don’t happen to have any cages with us. I bet every cage in the cosmos is already in that lab.
I told Pshaw-Ra the bad news. He was still in the cabin, apparently preparing for landing. “Useless!” he complained. “These people are utterly useless. Very well, then. I will be landing on the roof of the building in question. Once we are there, one of your humans must go to the evildoers and request the loan of a cage so that they may surrender two more cats for degradation and persecution.”
“If not death,” I said, liking this plan less all the time.
“If there is death, it will not be ours.”
“How are we going to prevent it if they want to kill us?” I asked. “Once we get out of the cages, will you get yourself wet and grow into a lion like some sort of dehydrated food packet?”
He then said those words truly aggravating to the young of any species: “That, my son, is for me to know and you—and them—to find out.”
Maybe I wouldn’t wait for the humans to kill Pshaw-Ra. Maybe I’d rip his ears off myself.
CHAPTER 22
Chessie screamed and snarled when the hazmat-suited lab assistant, protected by his gauntlets and helmet, scooped her out of her cage and deposited her in another one.
The cage smelled like terror. The urine and fur had been cleaned from its surfaces, but not the fear of the cats who had preceded her into the cage.
The man who carried her cage bore it swiftly toward the door, eager to get rid of the maddened animal inside.
The other cats, alert and in full voice, protested at the tops of their lungs.