Catalyst_ A Tale of the Barque Cats - Anne McCaffrey [99]
The tawny cat’s big yellow eyes gazed up at her, no doubt plotting his next move. She had a feeling that if she dropped her own gaze, he’d spring at her quicker than a striking snake, ripping her flesh and biting her as that other cat had done so many years ago.
Her mother, also a veterinarian, had been much too kind-hearted, and took in all sorts of strays without considering her main responsibility, the welfare of her own child. That last feral cat had seemed tame enough, purred and accepted the milk from her cereal bowl, followed her around and allowed her to touch his fur with her uncoordinated childish hands.
But a year later, when he was lying on her bed as she started to get dressed, he waited until her shirt was over her head and attacked her with tooth and claw. Surgery had repaired the worst of the outer scars but she still bore internal ones.
Until lately, focusing her career chiefly on horses and other useful animals, she had even stopped the nightmares. But as she looked into the urine-colored eyes of the devious, cunning beast before her, the old claw marks began to throb. She knew that as soon as she closed her eyes again the nightmares would return.
She had the needle poised, and broke eye contact long enough to grab the cat’s ruff and pin his struggling haunches.
The door from the cage room burst open then and Weeks rushed in. His face was stricken and his voice not quite steady as he said, “Dr. Wren, I have something I need to show you.”
“Not now. Can’t you see I’m busy?”
“I know, and I wouldn’t interrupt, but it’s important. I think I’ve been infected, and you might be too.”
She lowered the needle but didn’t release her grip on the cat, who hunkered under her hand, though she could feel his muscles tensed to spring. “What makes you think that?”
“The fairy dust effect. I’ve got it too. I took a specimen. Look!”
He held out a specimen jar with a lump of shiny yellow phlegm in it. “I’ve had a cold, but since I had to work a double shift today, I haven’t been back to my quarters to pick up my cough medicine.” He hacked, turning his head.
“Cover your mouth, for goodness’ sake, Weeks, and set the specimen down over there.” She shook her head. This whole assignment had been so badly mismanaged. They were impounding millions of large useful animals all over the galaxy, where her expertise would be truly useful, and they assigned her to temporary duty testing a bunch of cats. And on top of that she had to fill in for colleagues who were not up to the job, and make do with one lame assistant—at least on this watch.
She pointed at a counter, and Weeks set the specimen down. “You do know how to prepare a slide, don’t you?” she asked.
“Uh …” his voice trailed off and he shook his head.
“Where do they find these people?” she muttered to herself.
“You need another cat to work on?” Weeks asked.
“Of course not. I haven’t finished with—” She looked back to her hand, now empty. The cat was nowhere to be seen.
Just then the com buzzed and pandemonium erupted in the cat room.
CHAPTER 24
The latch on our cage clicked. I looked up from my own bath, having finished Mother’s, to see a line of the tiniest kefer-ka extending from the latch in all directions to the other cages.
I watched the latch as carefully as I had once watched the larger, juicier kefer-ka. I couldn’t see very well so I stuck my nose through the wire and tried to look around the front of the cage.
The smaller kefer-ka crawled into the round lock, clicking faintly. Two of their larger kin tried to pull the lock free. I pulled my nose back, changed position, and stuck a paw out, giving the lock a tap that pulled the heavier bottom part away from the catch. With a nudge of my head, the door