Catalyst_ A Tale of the Barque Cats - Anne McCaffrey [93]
As Pshaw-Ra received this intelligence, his eyes slitted with calculation and he marched straight into the open cage, where he sat down, waiting.
But then, he was crazy. Definitely crazy. And I didn’t want to leave Jubal. I’d just got him back. It wasn’t fair. Pshaw-Ra didn’t care about anyone else so he had nothing to lose, but I had to think of my boy, didn’t I, if not my own tail? “Since it’s your grand scheme, Pshaw-Ra, just go by yourself.”
He yawned and gave me a withering glance. “I could, of course, but at some point I’ll need two-legged minions for the heavy lifting parts of my plan. Your connection with the boy would be useful in summoning them. But if you don’t wish to keep all felinekind as we know it from doom and destruction, please don’t let me interrupt your touching reunion. I’m sure your mother will forgive you with her dying breath. And without my protection, of course, you’re left with these useless humans who will be forced by their evil overlords to submit you to meet your own death. Unless, of course, we end their evil dominion here and now.”
In favor of his own evil dominion, no doubt.
But I knew I could not stay behind. With the cage into which Pshaw-Ra had so blithely settled himself, Jubal and the others had brought the stink of fear—and it smelled like my mother’s. She had been imprisoned in this cage.
Stick me in there, Jubal, I told the boy. I’m sure to everyone else it sounded as if I said “mew,” but Jubal had heard me, and through me, most of my discussion with Pshaw-Ra.
Jubal sniffed and wiped his nose on the arm of his suit. I knew cats were good at guilt trips but I didn’t know it worked on other cats, he complained, the tears still falling so hard he petted them into my fur as he deposited me next to Pshaw-Ra. The poor boy could hardly breathe, he was so choked up with worry for my sake and grief at the prospect of losing me—again—but he said bravely, I’ll be with you as far as the lobby. If you change your mind, let me know and I’ll let you out. Then run like crazy.
Pshaw-Ra yawned again. It was meant to show his disdain, but watching his tail switch I realized he was actually using it to disguise his own nerves. “Oh, really. Such histrionics. Spare me.”
“Just shut up,” I told him. “Or l really will let you go alone!”
His eyes widened earnestly as he looked at me. “You must trust me, catling. I have a plan. I really do. It is in motion even now.”
“Oh, goody. I can’t wait to see what happens,” I said, lifting my leg and cleaning under my tail. At that inopportune moment Jubal lifted the cage, toppling me into Pshaw-Ra and rolling both of us to the back of the cage. I thought it was fear making my skin crawl, then I saw Pshaw-Ra’s bronze coat ripple like wind blowing across the sand dunes in one of Jubal’s books. We were sharing our fur with guests. The kefer-ka were using us as transport and concealment.
Jubal carried us out of the vessel and onto the roof.
The woman Beulah led us, her back straight and her red curls bouncing as she walked down the steps, Jubal carrying our cages in the middle, the girl Sosi bringing up the rear. All of the humans were afraid. I knew that if they were caught they would be in a lot of trouble with the authorities, probably whether or not our mission succeeded. They didn’t care about that too much—at least, Jubal didn’t—but they were worried about the captive cats.
We emerged from the stairwell into a broad, bland corridor of white walls and, to the right of us, a bank of double metal doors. Beulah pushed a button and a lift came to pick us up.
“Let’s not go to the lobby,” Jubal said. “We should stop at the fourth floor instead. That’s where the cats are.”
“We don’t have the pass codes, Jubal,” Beulah told him. “We won’t be able to get in to see them without the pass codes.”
“Can’t we just take the stairs, then?” Sosi asked. “I want to see Hadley.” And with that she bolted past Beulah