I Was An Alien Cat Toy (17 page)

eight standard years. They’d had to have a break then until Temin stopped giggling.

They’d had another break when Temin had tried to explain where he came from, and that his race

could fly across space and time. Martek had expressed his opinion of the credibility of such tales at length

and with a good many hand gestures Temin didn’t need an interpreter for. Gredar, strangely, hadn’t said

much at all. He certainly didn’t chime in with the fact he’d seen the podpod, and Temin, taking his cue, had

decided not to show Martek the scanner or handheld just yet. He wasn’t sure how Martek would react. It was

insulting that Martek thought he was a bit touched, but that perception might come in handy in the future.

Better to be thought mad rather than bad, after all.

What he hadn’t learned was why Martek had several pieces of elderly Terran electronic equipment on

his shelves—stuff that dated back to the colonists for sure, and which had to belong to that first expedition. It

was obvious Martek had not connected the things he owned with Temin at all, so he wasn’t familiar with

humans or their technology, and from what Temin had learned from the central database records, the

colonisation site was a good fifteen hundred kilometres from here. So what was this provincial librarian guy

with the insatiable curiosity, doing with those objects?

He just didn’t have the language skills yet—and maybe never would—to ask. His vocabulary had

increased ten-fold since arriving, so he now had hundreds of nouns, adjectives and verbs written down,

although he couldn’t clearly pronounce more than a quarter. But conversation was still incredibly frustrating

for him, and, he thought, Martek. Gredar just seemed happy that Temin was being occupied—was he

interested in this stuff? Gredar worked with his hands, was artistic, practical. How much of this cross-cultural

questioning did he care about? Temin realised that of all the secrets and information he had yet to learn, it

was what was going on in Gredar’s mind and heart that he really wanted to know. And that, he wasn’t much

closer to.

Finally Gredar held up a paw and said ‘Stop’ in both languages, and gathered Temin close to him, his

tail wrapping tightly around him. “T’meen tir-ed.”

“Yes,” Temin agreed though it hadn’t been a question. “Temin go here soon?”

“Ye-ess,” Martek said enthusiastically. “Grueni.”

“Tomorrow? Sure. Yes. Gredar happy?”

For an answer, Gredar rubbed his massive head carefully along Temin’s face. “Gredar haapy. T’meen

meni good.”

Martek delayed them a little longer, but Gredar had to insist on them leaving as it was getting dark

and he wasn’t carrying a lamp. They walked—well, Temin rode as Gredar walked—through the snowy

twilight, the high windows of the houses showing bright spots of lamplight through the high glass panels. It

was shefting cold, but the evening stars above—so strange, so beautiful—were close enough to touch in the

moonless, cloudless sky, and Temin couldn’t hold back a deep sigh, knowing he’d never fly again or see the

stars of his own planet. “T’meen ganaa?” Gredar rumbled quietly.

“Sad? Yeah. Puti. A little.”

“Leetle ganaa. Leetle sad.”

“Yes.”

“T’meen no go najil, leetle sad?”

“Yes,” Temin said, after he’d deciphered this. “Temin little sad not to go home. Puti ganaa. Gredar

good anwa Temin.” Learning the word for ‘to’ had been the biggest breakthrough of the day, he thought,

stroking Gredar’s soft ears affectionately. “Gredar pana happy.” And ‘make or to do’ had been the other big

one.

“Gredar haapy. Temin pana Gredar haapy.”

“Good. I’m glad I make you happy.” He wrapped his arms around Gredar’s head and hung on tight

until they reached the house again.

He was too tired to eat, and was content to doze under a pile of furs in the room while Gredar went

off and presumably ate and socialised with his family. There wouldn’t—couldn’t—be many more afternoons

like this, and though Temin was afraid of being left on his own in the house, the idea that Gredar might be

forced to get rid of him because Temin was a shefting nuisance, stopping Gredar from getting on with his

job, was a risk he couldn’t afford.

But what was
Temin’s
job now? He’d never been good at waiting or sitting still. Even at flight school,

he’d filled up any free time screwing Jeng and playing sarfab to nearly pro level, before he’d broken his arm

and lost too much training time. Vacations were spent with Jeng, travelling around the planet by aizin, trying

to cram in as much sight-seeing and excitement as possible. Pilots lived knowing they ran a much higher risk

of dying young than almost any other profession, and even a milk run to Nixal could end up killing them—as

he had come so close to finding out. They learned early not to waste time, and he’d taken that lesson to heart.

He’d always had a goal, something to do, something to get out of bed for—now that was gone, for good.

Even if they let him stay here forever, what was he going to do with his days—ride around on Gredar’s

shoulders? Chew the fat with Martek? He was a young guy—he could have sixty or seventy years ahead of

him, living like this. How could he make any useful contribution in a society where even getting a cup of

water was a major operation?

With only these miserable thoughts to console him, he fell into a troubled light sleep, dreaming he

was awake until the door shutting loudly snapped him out of his fugue and into reality. His heart was still

trying to jump out of his chest when he heard the quiet “T’meen?” and saw the soft glow of a candle lamp.

He slumped back onto the furs. “I’m awake, big guy.”

Gredar chirruped, but didn’t come to the bed immediately—he had business to do in his bathroom.

The day-neh kept themselves as clean as their houses, but if their sense of smell was as good as a domestic

cat’s, then Temin figured bad breath or dirty fur would be a lot more offensive to them than to him. It

reminded him that he hadn’t had a full bath in weeks, though he’d been wiped down repeatedly while he was

ill, and he probably stank to Gredar’s sensitive nose. He didn’t know the word for ‘bath’. Something else to

learn from Martek.

Thinking about his smell made Temin realise that his underwear would be even more gross—he

slipped out of his boxers and undershirt, folding them neatly and putting them near the bed. He would have to

find a way to wash them too. He only had one spare set. What he’d do when they fell to bits, he had no idea

but he suspected it would involve creating a weaving industry from scratch.

Gredar wasn’t gone long, and returned to place the lamp on the side table, and then sit on the bed near

Temin. He ran a gentle paw down Temin’s side. “T’meen tir-ed?”

“Yeah.”

“Naschi?”

Temin shook his head. “No. Not sick. Puti ganaa, meni tired. A little sad, very tired.”

Gredar nodded with a little growl which Temin now realised meant he understood. Listening to him

talking with Martek had taught Temin a lot about tones and body language, and things he’d assumed were

vaguely hostile or disapproving, were as benign as nods and ‘uh huh’ in human speech. He had to wonder

how much of his own expressions and gestures Gredar was getting wrong, but Gredar was so shefting smart.

He picked up nearly everything on the first explanation, and what he didn’t know, he worked out.

“You’re something else, you know,” Temin said sleepily.

“Whaat?”

“Gredar meni good. You’re great. Temin happy.”

Gredar patted him, his hand lingering on Temin’s bare shoulder. “Cloze? No cloze?”

“Dirty.” He held his nose and mimed a bad smell.

“Duuuurty.” Gredar leaned down and sniffed at Temin’s neck. “T’meen no duuurty. T’meen good.”

“You’re just saying that.” Temin smiled as Gredar’s tail curled over his shoulder and delicately

tickled his chin. “Temin want,” he said, plucking at the furry tuft near his face. “Temin want Temin tail.”

Gredar gave the curious yowly chirrup that meant he was amused—laughing in fact. “Gredar taaayl.

No T’meen taaayl.”

“Yes, Temin tail,” he teased, tugging at it. “Temin meni want tail.” He hugged it to his chest,

grabbing for it as Gredar tried to whisk it away. “Gredar make Temin sad. Temin tail.”

Gredar yanked it out quickly, but only so he could stroke Temin’s face with it. Temin closed his eyes

with pleasure—he’d never been one for fluffy things, even material with a nap didn’t do much for him, but

Gredar had turned him into the biggest fan of cat fur in the galaxy.

Gredar seemed content to sit there and stroke him for as long as Temin would allow it—but the big

guy had had a stressful day, with the family court thing and the surprises Temin had given him. “Bed?”

Temin said, pointing beside him.

Gredar slipped off his beautiful medallion and set it aside. Temin had learned that afternoon Gredar

had designed it himself, and it had been made by his younger sister from a coppery-red alloy which was very

light but strong. A very talented family, and famous for it. Gredar’s designs and pottery were traded all over

Ptane, Martek had told him proudly. Males had to be useful, Temin had worked out from what he’d been told

and what he’d observed. They had no status. Gredar could be kicked out at a second’s notice and not a

member of the clan would stop it happening—not that it would, Temin thought, but in theory....

“Filwui go?” he asked as Gredar lay down beside him.

“Go? Weet?”

“Where? Out. Ptane.”

“No. Maaaybe.” That had been one of Gredar’s big new words. “Filwui pana baaad guu, Filwui go

Ptane.”

‘Filwui do bad twice, Filwui go Ptane.’ So if Filwui fucked up again, he’d be out on his furry

backside. “Good.” He pointed at the lamp. “Stop?”

“T’meen fraa.”

‘Fraa—‘want, need’. Gredar could see well enough in the dark to move around if he wanted to—

Temin couldn’t. “Thank you. Good.”

Gredar tugged Temin close against his chest, and Temin wondered why it didn’t occur to him to

object to the handling. Maybe it was because Gredar never presumed it was okay—Temin knew if he gave

the slightest hint the embrace was unwelcome, Gredar would have let him go and probably slept on the floor,

as he had done the first few nights after his return, until Temin, cold and lonely, had invited him back. Being

with Gredar was about safe as Temin could allow himself to feel in this alien world and...the big guy was so

warm and soft. It was easy to forget his lethal side. Gredar didn’t know Temin had a lethal side too, in theory.

Temin hoped there would never be a reason for him to find out.

“T’meen?”

“Just thinking, big guy.”

“Guuuy? Whaat?”

Sheft. How to explain a nickname. “Maybe grueni. Maybe tomorrow.” He should make a list of

words he needed to translate with Martek.

“Ye-ess.”

Temin snuggled in. He was lying with his face against Gredar’s broad chest—the dense, ultrasoft

chest and belly fur was paler than the rest. In the dim candlelight, it glowed white, though in fact it was a rich

cream. They were so handsome.... He suddenly had a flash of someone hunting Gredar down, killing him for

his fur, so they could put it on a bed just like this. The idea make him almost retch. If humans discovered the

day-neh, they would hunt them. They would shoot Gredar, skin him and never know what they’d destroyed

He shivered, horrified by his own thoughts, and Gredar’s big paw cupped his head, protectively. “I’m

okay, big guy. Temin good.”

“Ye-ess. Shhh.”

Temin had to grin at cat people and human-people having the same sounds for hushing an unruly pet.

He jumped a little as something touched his face, until he realised he was being licked. Something else he’d

got used to, strangely, like the drill-like sound of Gredar’s purring. He buried his fingers deep into Gredar’s

fur and began to knead—his fingers could barely get down to skin level, the fur was so thick, but Gredar

liked it anyway, judging by the way the purring became almost deafening. The vibrations were incredible—

his whole body felt like it was being massaged from within.

The licking was getting more insistent—now Gredar was tonguing his chest, which felt a bit odd.

Temin pushed back without thinking and Gredar stopped. “T’meen no hal?”

“Yes, hal. I like it a lot. Meni hal. Just....” He didn’t know the word for ‘strange’. “Pana? Do it

again?”

Gredar hesitated, his green eyes inscrutable in the flickering yellow light. “Good?”

“Very good.”

Gredar made a grumbling growl, deep in his chest, and then started licking Temin again, nudging him

to make him lie flat, to give him better access to Temin’s body. Temin froze—it was suddenly too much

like....

Gredar lifted his head. “Filwui,” Temin whispered, his gut clenching, his body remembering

that...demanding, unstoppable touch. Claws on his hips, teeth at his neck.

Gredar’s sharp ears heard. “Filwui wasa. Filwui baaad.” He stroked back Temin’s hair from his

forehead, and his great tail came around to lie flat against Temin’s stomach. “Gredar stop?”

Temin fought to breathe, to get his shivering under control. Gredar wasn’t Filwui. Gredar had

protected
him in public, from Filwui’s threats. But he was so big...and his tongue was just like....

He reached out and grabbed a handful of Gredar’s fur, dug his fingers in. Gredar didn’t move, except