Dragon's Teeth (34 page)

A Tail of Two SKittys

Mercedes Lackey

The howls coming from inside the special animal shipping crate sounded impatient, and had been enough to seriously alarm the cargo handlers. Dick White, Spaceman First Class, Supercargo on the CatsEye Company ship
Brightwing,
put his hand on the outside of the plastile crate, just above the word “Property.” From within the crate the muffled voice continued to yowl general unhappiness with the world.

Tell her that it’s all right, SKitty,
he thought at the black form that lay over his shoulders like a living fur collar.
Tell her I’ll have her out in a minute. I don’t want her to come bolting out of there and hide the minute I crack the crate.

SKitty raised her head. Yellow eyes blinked once, sleepily. Abruptly, the yowling stopped.

:She fine,:
SKitty said, and yawned, showing a full mouth of needle-pointed teeth.
:Only young, scared. I think she make good mate for Furrball.:

Dick shook his head; the kittens were not even a year old, and already their mother was matchmaking. Then again, that
was
the tendency of mothers the universe over.

At least now he’d be able to uncrate this would-be “mate” with a minimum of fuss.

The full legend imprinted on the crate read “Female Shipscat Astra Stardancer of Englewood, Property of BioTech Interstellar, leased to CatsEye Company. Do not open under penalty of law.” Theoretically, Astra was, like SKitty, a bio-engineered shipscat, fully capable of handling freefall, alien vermin, conditions that would poison, paralyze, or terrify her remote Terran ancestors, and all without turning a hair. In actuality, Astra, like the nineteen other shipscats Dick had uncrated, was a failure. The genetic engineering of her middle-ear and other balancing organs had failed. She could not tolerate freefall, and while most ships operated under grav-generators, there were always equipment malfunctions and accidents.

That made her and her fellows failures by BioTech standards. A shipscat that could not handle freefall was not a shipscat.

Normally, kittens that washed out in training were adopted out to carefully selected planet- or stationbound families of BioTech employees. However, this was not a “normal” circumstance by any stretch of the imagination.

The world of the Lacu’un, graceful, bipedal humanoids with a remarkably sophisticated, if planetbound, civilization, was infested with a pest called a “kreshta.” Erica Makumba, the Legal Advisor and Security Chief of Dick’s ship described them as “six-legged crosses between cockroaches and mice.” SKitty described them only as “nasty,” but she hunted them gleefully anyway. The Lacu’un opened their world to trade just over a year ago, and some of their artifacts and technologies made them a desirable trade ally indeed. The
Brightwing
had been one of the three ships invited to negotiate, in part because of SKitty, for the Lacu’un valued totemic animals highly.

And that was what had led to Captain Singh of the
Brightwing
conducting the entire trade negotiations with the Lacu’un—and had kept
Brightwing
ground-bound for the past year. SKitty had done the—to the Lacu’un—impossible. She had killed kreshta. She had already been assumed to be
Brightwing
’s totemic animal; that act elevated her to the status of “god-touched miracle,” and had given the captain and crew of her ship unprecedented control and access to the rulers here.

SKitty had been newly pregnant at the time; part of the price for the power Captain Singh now wielded had been her kittens. But Dick had gotten another idea, and had used his own share of the profits
Brightwing
was taking in to purchase the leases of twenty more “failed” cats to supplement SKitty’s four kittens. BioTech cats released for leases were generally sterile, SKitty being a rare exception. If these twenty worked out, the Lacu’un would be very grateful, and more importantly, so would Vena Ferducci, the attractive, petite Terran Consul assigned to the new embassy here. In the past few months, Dick had gotten to know Vena very well—and he hoped to get to know her better. Vena had originally been a Survey Scout, and she was getting rather restless in her ground-based position as Consul. And in truth, the Lacu’un lawyer, Lan Ventris, was much better suited to such a job than Vena. She had hinted that as soon as the Lacu’un felt they could trust Ventris, she would like to resign and go back to space. Dick rather hoped she might be persuaded to take a position with the
Brightwing.
It was too soon to call this little dance a “romance,” but he had hopes . . . .

Hopes which could be solidified by this experiment. If the twenty young cats he had imported worked out as well as SKitty’s four half-grown kittens, the Lacu’un would be able to import their intelligent pest-killers at a fraction of what the lease on a shipscat would be. This would make Vena happy; anything that benefited her Lacu’un made her happy. And if Dick was the cause of that happiness . . .

:Dick go courting?:
SKitty asked innocently, salting her query with decidedly
not
-innocent images of her own “courting.”

Dick blushed.
No courting,
he thought firmly.
Not yet, anyway.

:Silly,:
SKitty replied scornfully. The overtones of her thoughts were—why waste such a golden opportunity? Dick did not answer her.

Instead, he thumbed the lock on the crate, a lock keyed to his DNA only. A tiny prickle was the only indication that the lock had taken a sample of his skin for comparison, but a moment later a hairline-thin crack appeared around the front end of the crate, and Dick carefully opened the door and looked inside.

A pair of big green eyes in a pointed gray face looked out at him from the shadows. “Meowrrrr?” said a tentative voice.

Tell her it’s all right, SKitty,
he thought, extending a hand for Astra to sniff. It was too bad that his telepathic connection with SKitty did not extend to these other cats, but she seemed to be able to relay everything he needed to tell them.

Astra sniffed his fingers daintily, and oozed out of the crate, belly to the floor. After a moment though, a moment during which SKitty stared at her so hard that Dick was fairly certain his little friend was communicating any number of things to the newcomer, Astra stood up and looked around, her ears coming up and her muscles relaxing. Finally she looked up at Dick and blinked.

“Prrow,” she said. He didn’t need SKitty’s translation to read that. He held out his arms and the young cat leapt into them, to be carried in regal dignity out of the quarantine area.

As he turned away from the crate, he thought he caught a hint of movement in the shadows at the back. But when he turned to look, there was nothing there, and he dismissed it as nothing more than his imagination. If there
had
been anything else in Astra’s crate, the manifest would have listed it—and Astra was definitely sterile, so it could not have been an unlicensed kitten.

Erica Makumba and Vena were waiting for him in the corridor outside. Vena offered her fingers to the newcomer; much more secure now, Astra sniffed them and purred. “She’s lovely,” Vena said in admiration. Dick had to agree; Astra was a velvety blue-gray from head to tail, and her slim, clean lines clearly showed her descent from Russian Blue ancestors.

:She for Furrball,:
SKitty insisted, gently nipping at his neck.

Is this your idea or hers?
Dick retorted.

:Sees Furrball in head; likes Furrball.:
That seemed to finish it as far as SKitty was concerned.
:Good hunter, too.:
Dick gave in to the inevitable.

“Didn’t we promise one of these new cats to the Lacu’teveras?” Dick asked. “This one seems very gentle; she’d probably do very well as a companion for Furrball.” SKitty’s kittens all had names as fancy as Astra’s—or as SKitty’s official name, for that matter. Furrball was “Andreas Widefarer of Lacu’un”; Nuisance was “Misty Snowspirit of Lacu’un”; Rags was “Lady Flamebringer of Lacu’un”; and Trey was “Garrison Starshadow of Lacu’un.” But they had, as cats always do, acquired their own nicknames that had nothing to do with the registered names. Astra would without a doubt do the same.

Each of the most prominent families of the Lacu’un had been granted one cat, but the Royal Family had three: two of SKitty’s original kittens, and one of the newcomers. Astra would bring that number up to four, a sacred number to the Lacu’un and very propitious.

“We did,” Vena replied absently, scratching a pleased Astra beneath her chin. “And I agree with you; I think this one would please the Lacu’teveras very much.” She laughed a little. “I’m beginning to think you’re psychic or something, Dick; you haven’t been wrong with your selections yet.”

“Me?” he said ingenuously. “Psychic? Spirits of Space, Vena, the way these people are treating the cats, it doesn’t matter anyway. Any ‘match’ I made would be a good one, so far as the cat is concerned. They couldn’t be pampered more if they were Lacu’un girl-babies!”

“True,” she agreed, and reluctantly took her hand away. “Well, four cats should be just about right to keep the Palace vermin-free. It’s really kind of funny how they’ve divided the place up among them with no bickering. They almost act as if they were humans dividing up patrols!” Erica shot him an unreadable glance; did she remember how he had sat down with the original three and SKitty—and a floor-plan of the place—when he first brought them all to the Palace?

“They are bred for high intelligence,” he reminded both of them hastily. “No one really knows how bright they are. They’re bright enough to use their life-support pods in an emergency, and bright enough to learn how to use the human facilities in the ships. They seem to have ways of communicating with each other, or so the people at BioTech tell me, so maybe they did establish patrols.”

“Well, maybe they did,” Erica said after a long moment. He heaved a mental sigh of relief. The last thing he needed was to have someone suspect SKitty’s telepathic link with him. BioTech was not breeding for telepathy, but if such a useful trait ever showed up in a
fertile
female, they would surely cancel
Brightwing
’s lease and haul SKitty back to their nearest cattery to become a breeding queen. SKitty was his best friend; to lose her like that would be terrible.

:No breeding,:
SKitty said firmly.
:Love Dick, love ship. No breeding; breeding dull, kittens a pain. Not leave ship ever.:

Well, at least SKitty agreed.

For now, anyway, now that her kittens were weaned. Whenever she came into season, she seemed to change her mind, at least about the part that resulted in breeding, if not the breeding itself.

The Lacu’teveras, the Ruling Consort of her people, accepted Astra into the household with soft cries of welcome and gladness. Erica was right, the Lacu’un could not possibly have pampered their cats more. Whenever a cat wanted a lap or a scratch, one was immediately provided, whether or not the object of feline affection was in the middle of negotiations or a session of Council or not. Whenever one wished to play—although with the number of kreshta about, there was very little energy left over for playing—everything else was set aside for that moment. And when one brought in a trophy kreshta, tail and ears held high with pride, the entire court applauded. Astra was introduced to Furrball at SKitty’s insistence. Noses were sniffed, and the two rubbed cheeks. It appeared that Mama’s matchmaking was going to work.

The three humans and the pleased feline headed back across the city to the spaceport and the Fence around it. The city of the Lacu’un was incredibly attractive, much more so than any other similar city Dick had ever visited. Because of the rapidity with which the kreshta multiplied given any food and shelter, the streets were kept absolutely spotless, and the buildings clean and in repair. Most had walls about them, giving the inhabitants little islands of privacy. The walls of the wealthy were of carved stone; those of the poor of cast concrete. In all cases, ornamentation was the rule, not the exception.

The Lacu’un themselves walked the streets of their city garbed in delicate, flowing robes, or shorter more practical versions of the same garments. Graceful and handsome, they resembled avians rather than reptiles; their skin varied in shade from a dark brown to a golden tan, and their heads bore a kind of frill like an iguana’s, that ran from the base of the neck to a point just above and between the eyes.

Their faces were capable of something like a smile, and the expression meant the same for them as it did for humans. Most of them smiled when they saw Dick and SKitty; although the kreshta-destroying abilities of the cat were not something any of them would personally feel the impact of for many years, perhaps generations, they still appreciated what the cats Dick had introduced could do. The kreshta had been a plague upon them for as long as their history recorded, even being so bold as to steal the food from plates and injure unguarded infants. For as long as that history, it had seemed that there would never be a solution to the depredations of the little beasts. But now—the most pious claimed the advent of the cats was a sign of the gods’ direct intervention and blessing, and even the skeptics were thrilled at the thought that an end to the plague was in sight. It was unlikely that, even with a cat in every household, the kreshta would ever be destroyed—but such things as setting a guard on sleeping babies and locking meals in metal containers set into the tables could probably be eliminated.