I Was An Alien Cat Toy (26 page)

claws raised, ears flat, their young ones huddled behind them, terrified. Every few seconds, one of the

females would let out an angry, controlled hiss. The attacking males, suddenly trapped, were unable to move

in any direction without facing danger. When one of them made the slightest attempt to advance, he was

immediately pinned to the ground by a female. Gredar’s sister, Wilna, came over to examine the prisoner—

and with one swift swipe from her enormous paw, tore out his throat. She shook the gobbets of flesh from her

hand, snarled, and walked away, as Temin swallowed, trying not to throw up at the fountaining blood.

It seemed to be a signal. The other males were turned on, and just as quickly killed, no trial, no

arguments or pleas for mercy, until there were ten more corpses, and several females licking blood from their

paws. It had taken less than a minute to execute the rogues.

Gredar’s mother got to her feet with the help of one of the females and growled out something. The

bodies of the intruders were dragged from the hall, leaving wide bloody trails across the worn stone. More

growled orders and the hall began to clear of all but the females and young kits, Gredar—and Martek,

standing on the stage, claws extended, but otherwise frozen in place. Temin stood where he was, ready to use

his pistol against another attack—wherever it came from.

J’len, still crouched beside Gredar, snapped out a command, and one of the females set off at a run.

The kits were led out by two other females, leaving the hall now virtually empty. Just the injured on the floor,

and some very worried and angry day-neh who didn’t know whether Temin was friend or foe now.

“T’meen, come.”

Gredar’s mother, ears flattened, flanked by several granddaughters. Temin walked a little closer,

avoiding the worst pools of gore, but refused to get within strike range. She pointed to his pistol. “Give.”

“No. Is bad for Kadit.” It was keyed to his DNA, but she didn’t need to know that—and if one of

them decided to smash the shefting thing up, it’d explode. Too risky—and it looked like it was all that stood

between him and a quick death.

“
Give
.” Behind her, the other females exposed their claws, and began to hiss, fur erect, tails whipping

from side to side in fury.

“No. Bad. Is danger.” He pointed the pistol at a bare bit of floor safely away from them, and fired.

They all jumped back as a hole the size of a man’s head was blasted out of the stone. The pinging of

superheated rock and the sizzle of burning blood was stunningly loud in the suddenly silent hall. Gredar’s

mother stared at him, claws raised—he had to give the old girl credit though, she hadn’t retreated a centimetre.
Balls of titanium.
“No. Bad. Is Temin thing. Temin no hurt Kadit, no hurt J’len. No hurt Wilna.

No hurt any,” he said, waving his hand at the females. “Gredar hurt bad?”

Gredar’s mother ignored his question. “Martek!”

Temin pointed his pistol at the historian as he started forward. “No, Martek. No hurt Temin. Please—

Gredar hurt? J’len, say?”

Gredar’s mother snapped something at her daughter. J’len looked up and hissed at Temin. “Yes. Very

bad. T’meen go now. Leave clan.”

“No. Want help Gredar. No go away. Please. Please, J’len. Want help Gredar!”

The angry stares continued for a few moments, then Gredar’s mother nodded curtly. J’len snarled.

“T’meen can stay now.” But then she added something Temin could only guess at—and which he suspected

was something along the lines of, ‘until we get that weapon off you and then you’re dead, human.’

He could only nod, and thank her. Gredar was the first priority now, getting him safe and healed. But

Temin had to somehow manage not to be killed while that happened, and that, he suspected, wasn’t going to

be easy.

~~~~~~~~

Gredar...hurt. His gut, his...everything. A small moan escaped him, and instantly someone was at his

side. Jilen.

“Shhh, brother, don’t move.”

His sister’s face, lit by lamp light, leaning over him. “Jilen...how many...who did we...?”

She bent and rubbed her nose very carefully along his forehead—a gesture normally reserved for a

mother towards her kitlings. “Halit’s dead. You’re the worst of our injured.”

“Halit? No!” Their youngest sister—how could she be dead so pointlessly? “Filwui....”

“Is dead too,” she said, her voice flat. “T’meen killed him.”

Gredar remembered now. He tried to sit up. “T’meen! Is he...?”
Not T’meen too.

“Be still,” she snapped. “He’s in the corner. He won’t let anyone go near him or that paznit weapon of

his.”

Gredar looked past her. T’meen was huddled against the wall, his strange weapon clutched in front of

him. He didn’t look injured, but things had become very confused, and Gredar had lost track of him as he

was being carried from the assembly hall. Jilen had dosed him with something at the infirmary and that was

the last thing he remembered.

Gredar started to call over to T’meen, but Jilen hushed him. “Leave him be. Mother says to wait until

he’s asleep, then we can deal with him.”

“Deal with...? You mean kill? Jilen, he saved my life!”

She hushed him again, and moved to block his view of his friend. “Yes. He saved Mother and me,

and my youngest too. I know. But Gredar—he killed two daiyne without even touching them! That thing he’s

carrying is more lethal than anything we’ve ever heard of. He’s too dangerous for us to allow him to live. We

have no defence against that thing—he killed
Filwui
. A little thing like him killed a male that size without

any struggle.” She shuddered. “He could kill us all.”

“Yes, he could. But he hasn’t—and considering what’s been done to him, you don’t think that’s

significant?”

Her tail flicked, and her usual stone-hard certainty slipped. “Gredar, it’s not me, it’s Mother. T’meen

terrified her. He
disobeyed
her in front of the clan.”

“The clan who did absolutely nothing to try and help, you mean?” Gredar snapped, injury and anxiety

draining away his ability to be polite. “He saved her
life
. I saw him. If he’d wanted to kill her, he’d have done

it then. Or before then.” He clutched weakly at her arm, wincing at the pain it caused him. “You have to

convince her not to kill him. Jilen, he’s special. More special than you can imagine. Please...we’ve lost a

sister, a mother of four. Let’s not lose a friend too.”

“It’s not me,” she repeated quietly. “We lost more than a sister—we lost twelve males, not all of them

useless, and the conspiracy went deep. We’re still investigating—Wilna’s taking charge—but we think there

are females involved too. It was a serious takeover attempt.”

“I knew that as soon as I saw him.” He stared at his sister. “T’meen really did save my life. I was

losing.”

“Yes. I know.
I
nearly lost you. Do you know how hard it is to operate on your own brother?”

The harmonics in her voice indicated how close she was to breaking down, and all Gredar could to

was hold her arm and pet her.
Halit
. A sunny kitling, a placid adult and competent mother. Jilen had been

training her as a healer alongside her own daughters. A loss to their family and to their clan that would

demand revenge, if all the perpetrators weren’t already dealt with. “The clan didn’t come to our aid.”

“We’ve been too long at peace. People just panicked. And...Filwui and his troop were not without

support.”

“So they were waiting to see which side was stronger.” Not surprising—disappointing, but it was in

daiyne nature to go with the winner.

Jilen nodded. “There will be banishments—or worse.”

Gredar closed his eyes, tired and hurt and despairing. The clan would suffer badly from this night.

“Please, save T’meen. At least let there be a surat, Jilen. He’s done nothing wrong. Does Mother want it

known she rewarded the hero of the fight with death?”

Jilen’s tail flicked. “Now that’s an argument I can put to her. I can win a delay, Gredar. No more.”

“Even that’s better than nothing. Thank you, sister. I’m glad you’re not dead.”

She gave a sad little chuckle. “Me too, brother. You need to rest—the stomach wound is serious but

didn’t involve the viscera, just the overlying muscles and tissue. You’ll be sore for a while, but you’ll live.”

She propped him up on a bolster—his stomach screamed in protest. She gave him something bitter to drink—

he was so thirsty, he didn’t care what it tasted like. “That will help with the pain, but you must lie still as you

can or you’ll rip the stitching.” She checked the bindings on the dressings, and seemed satisfied as she stood

up. “I’ll speak to Mother now, see if I can get her to agree that T’meen can remain unmolested until you’re

on your feet. She was very angry earlier, and Halit’s death has really hurt her. It’s hurt us all,” she added, tail

drooping.

“Go on. I want to speak to T’meen. Wait—how long has it been?” He glanced up at the lightview—it

was still dark but he felt sluggish and heavy, as if he’d been sleeping for more than a few strikes.

“A full sun pass.” He boggled at her, and she raised a tired smile. “Yes. And yet you still need to rest.

Don’t you dare try to get out of bed without help. I’ll be back soon.”

She rubbed her nose on him again and then left. Poor Jilen. His mother might be angry but most of the

real strain was falling on her eldest daughter and heir.

He shifted, grunting in pain as deep wounds caught, then looked over to the corner. “T’meen? Is

okay.” Had his friend really been sitting like that for a night and a sun pass? “Come. Is okay?”

Slowly T’meen uncurled, but the weapon never wavered. “Gredar...no hurt?”

“Ye-ess, I’m hurt. But is okay. Come,” he beckoned with his hand. “Is okay.”

T’meen walked stiffly, warily, over to the bed. “Jilen come here soon? Kadit angry to T’meen.”

“Kadit is angry with Filwui. Come. Sit. Please?”

T’meen still hesitated. His huu-man friend was badly frightened, and even if he didn’t know Gredar’s

mother’s plans, he was more than clever enough to work out the possible implications of his actions. “Is

okay,” Gredar repeated. “I won’t hurt T’meen. Honest.”

T’meen sat down, and put his hand carefully on Gredar’s tail. “Is very bad, Gredar hurt?”

“Ye-ess. My sister is dead. Halit.”

T’meen bowed. “T’meen is sad. Is sorry. No is sorry Filwui is dead.”

“No. T’meen did the right thing, killing Filwui...uh...this is bad, maybe.” He pointed at the weapon

still clutched in T’meen’s right hand. “My mother is very worried. Kadit is worried.”

“Ye-ess. Sorry. Kadit want to kill T’meen. Jilen want.”

Gredar shook his head and placed his hand on T’meen’s thigh—his friend jumped. He was trembling,

probably exhausted as well as frightened. “No. Jilen no want to kill T’meen. Kadit...worries. Worries for

clan. Is scary, this thing.”

“Ye-ess. T’meen understand is bad. T’meen no want to hurt daiyne—
good
daiyne. Want to hurt

Filwui, daiyne like Filwui. Only this daiyne. Understand.”

“Ye-ess. Sit. Here.” He patted the bed beside him, and T’meen moved in, snuggling very carefully

against him. “T’meen is good. Gredar will protect.”

“Gredar is
hurt
. Gredar sleep, T’meen sleep, Kadit, Jilen come, kill T’meen. T’meen worry.”

And he was right to, but Gredar had nothing more to offer. He could only cuddle his friend and

encourage him to get some sleep, and hope Jilen would get their mother to calm down. He wanted to be up

and doing, helping Halit’s orphaned kits, her twin Jikar who would be mourning her deeply, his mother who

was facing a crisis unlike anything Gredar had seen in all his thirty cycles. But he could feel his injuries,

knew they would be days, weeks in healing. He smelled of blood and medicine, and would have dearly loved

a bath, but he wasn’t capable of that. Even lifting his head made everything ache.
A wounded male is surely

the most useless thing alive.

T’meen, who stank not of blood but of stress and the unique scent he exuded when he was afraid, was

carrying no injuries, but his listless movements indicated great weariness. They both needed to rest, but

T’meen seemed to want to reaffirm contact with Gredar more than sleep. He was stroking Gredar’s side, as if

trying to soothe away the pain with his touch. Gredar patted his head and wished he could promise things

would be all right. There was every chance they would not be.

A noise at the door, and T’meen lifted his weapon. “Shhh, shhh. Is okay,” Gredar said, realising it

was only Jilen again.

She came into the room, but kept her distance, perhaps to avoid startling their nervy huu-man. “She

agreed. He can stay in your room for now and no one will molest him. She won’t come to see you while he’s

here, but she sends her fond wishes. She wants me to report to her twice a day on your condition.” She

flicked her ear wryly at him.

“Sorry about that. How long...?”

“Until you’re mobile. Then we will have to decide. Gredar...she did say if T’meen were to leave

quietly now, no one would stop him or hunt him. I could...give him supplies.” She glanced down at T’meen,

who was staring up at her, the weapon not pointed at her but clearly ready to use. “It would be best. You

know that.”

“Yes, I do. But if he had somewhere to go, or a way to survive, he’d have gone already. You think

I’ve been preventing him?”