I Was An Alien Cat Toy (29 page)

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The pattern of Temin’s life changed immediately. He was allowed to relax and stay hidden away with

a recuperating Gredar the rest of that day, but the following morning, J’len turned up at the door and insisted

Temin come to breakfast—without Gredar. If it hadn’t been for Gredar’s gentle urging, he’d never have

agreed. Still, he went, J’len apparently having appointed herself his guardian in Gredar’s absence. As soon as

he sat down, he was gravely welcomed by J’len’s mother, and then a set of cutlery and plates—child-sized—

was brought for his use. That wasn’t the end of the attempt to make him feel more at home. After breakfast,

J’len took him to the kitchen and got him to explain in embarrassing detail what food he liked, could eat,

would make him sick, and which might even kill him. Meals were likely to become a lot easier.

Later that morning Martek came to collect him personally from the house, and spent the entire walk

back to his place apologising for betraying Temin, and trying to explain that he was only doing what he

thought was right. As soon as he put Temin down, Temin hit him to make him shut up. Martek stared at him

and at the fist which had whacked him hard on the leg, and then he just laughed. “Is okay?”

“Is okay.” Temin hit him on the leg again, but more gently. “Now work.”

He worked with Martek as before, while Gredar continued his recovery. In the evenings, Temin was

invited—
expected
—to attend the family meal. His child-sized utensils and plates were replaced in a couple

of days by a specially customised and beautifully decorated set made precisely to fit his hands and his

requirements. He was no longer a guest. He belonged there.

After five days, Gredar rejoined the family, still moving slowly, still bandaged, but clearly on the

mend. The family closed in protectively around him, and he was waited on hand and foot for the first few

meals until he made them stop. When Temin commented to him about it in private, Gredar just sighed and

said, “Halit.” Then Temin got it. A sister lost, a brother safe. The family was grieving. That Temin was

allowed to witness it, showed how things had changed for him.

But he was expected to work for the privilege of being accepted into the household. As soon as

Gredar was back on his feet, he turned up for lunch at Martek’s house, and spent an hour rehearsing another

song. Temin expected him to go back to the pottery—which he did, but he hauled Temin along with him,

much to Temin’s confusion. At the pottery, he was set down at a bench, and one of Gredar’s assistants

showed him what he was to do—copy some fine details into the glaze on some infant feeding cups.

Apparently his efforts were acceptable. Gredar clapped him on the shoulder. “Temin do again. Is work now.”

And after that, he came to the pottery each afternoon and was set to similar tasks, his small hands

being put to work on all kinds of jobs. It felt good to be useful again. It felt good not to be a freak too—in the

pottery, he was just another worker, no one staring at him or whispering.

There were still stares and whispers, at least outside the house, and he couldn’t help but notice he was

always accompanied by an adult day-neh, either someone from Gredar’s family, Gredar himself, or Martek.

Gredar also encouraged him to wear the pulse pistol in the holster, not just in his pack. “Bad day-neh?”

Temin asked.

“Maybe,” Gredar said. “T’meen protect. No kill Kadit, Kadit family.”

“No kill,” Temin promised. Gredar’s mother wanted him to be an obvious threat—but to who? Filwui

was dead, so—as far as Temin could work out from Martek’s rather confused explanations—were his co-

conspirators. Maybe it was just a precaution. Maybe she was flaunting him as her secret weapon in the faces

of the unknown enemy.

That suspicion was strengthened when the clan had a singing a week after Gredar had returned to

work, in memory of his sister, so Gredar explained. It wasn’t like the other ones he’d seen. This was a

solemn affair, with many more day-neh participating, and at the end of each song, there was none of the foot-

stomping and chirruping that the day-neh used as applause. Instead, there was a long, unified yowl that made

Temin’s hackles lift and his teeth go on edge, ending when Martek gave a single decisive drum beat. And

then the next song began.

At the end of what seemed like hours of discordant yowling, Gredar’s mother stood and made a

speech. Gredar was summoned to the stage, and as he knelt before his mother, she placed a medallion around

his neck. For the first time that evening, applause erupted, and Temin, catching sight of the medallion,

realised it was identical to the one she wore. A reward for his bravery—had to be that. He gave the big guy

the thumbs’ up. Gredar deserved his medal.

“T’meen?”

Temin froze as Gredar’s mother called him. “Huh?”

“T’meen, come.”

Sheft.
No. She hadn’t reprieved him just to kill him in front of everyone, had she? But Gredar looked

relaxed as he waved him over, and J’len’s ears were forward—they wouldn’t look that happy if he was about

to be executed. On shaking legs and with a clenching gut, he walked over as casually as he could manage.

Gredar’s mother patted him on the head. “T’meen is good,” she said slowly, and then carefully repeated it in

Standard. He was too shocked to reply, just stood there like an idiot with his mouth hanging open, as she

placed a medallion around his neck. “Thank you,” she said, nodding. “T’meen protect Kadit.”

“Yes. Thank you. Uh. Thank you.”
Yeah, make her think you’re a complete moron.
But she didn’t

seem to care, just patted his head again, and then Gredar put his arm around Temin’s shoulders to lead him

away to his seat.

Temin stared at the medallion—it was the same as Gredar’s, made of a lightweight silver metal with

some kind of stylised tree symbol beautifully carved on it. “What?” he whispered.

“Is thank you. T’meen is regaijen now.”

‘Regaijen’? That was the name of their clan—‘people of the forest plain’. “Belong to clan now?”

“Ye-ess,” Gredar said, his tail flicking happily.

“Wow.” First medal since primary school and a bunch of cats had given it to him. He didn’t know

whether to be proud or freaked out.

Kadit had taken a huge risk, publicly acknowledging him like that, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t

just gratitude that had motivated her. He was even more sure when he realised that Martek was pumping him

for more than cultural information about humans. Gredar’s mother might have decided that he, Temin, was

no longer a threat—but the same didn’t hold for the rest of mankind. He supposed he couldn’t really blame

her, but he had a better idea.

“What T’meen do?” Martek asked as he, Temin and Gredar sat down for lunch and Temin hauled out

the handheld.

“Wait.” He spoke into the mike, and hit play. Martek and Gredar leaned back in alarm as his voice

came out of the little speakers. “Now Gredar say.”

“Say what?”

“Say...’Gredar loves Temin’.”

Gredar clearly thought he was insane, but gravely repeated the words. He yowled as they were played

back to him. “What is this thing?”

“Is human thing. T’meen...show human all day-neh stuff. What day-neh know, how day-neh speak.

Human know, day-neh is smart, can talk like human, then no kill day-neh. Understand?”

The two day-neh looked at each other, then Martek got up. “Huh?” Where was he going?

“Wait,” Martek said, and walked out of the room.

“Temin do bad thing?” he asked Gredar, who only shook his head.

“Wait.”

Martek was back in seconds, holding a book. He pushed the bowls of food away on the table and set

the book down. “Martek, what?”

“T’meen, huu-man know day-neh is smart. Know day-neh can talk. Look.”

It was the book he’d first found, but he’d not been able to read the text, and so had missed vital clues

in the pictures. Martek explained, how a day-neh clan had brought gifts and books to the new arrivals, and

been treated as visitors—then slaughtered as they shared a meal with their hosts, their books and gifts strewn

around them. “Huu-man know this thing,” Martek said, tracing a finger over an image of a bloodstained book

lying over a corpse. “Huu-man kill.”

Temin got up and walked out to the foyer—he couldn’t open the door, but he didn’t want to go

outside, just...away. Away from proof that his race was a menace, a violent, vandalising menace. This was

what humans were supposed to have left behind when they’d fled a dying Terra. A brave new world—dozens

of brave new worlds. In five hundred years, there hadn’t been a single war between the colonies. Not a single

civil war. Every year, every planet held a Peace Day, and the time since the last bloody conflict was proudly

announced, the years of peace proclaimed.

No human had recorded the first contact with a sentient alien race, nor the first attempt at the

genocide of an alien sentient race. The years of peace were a complete lie.

“T’meen?”

He wiped his face and turned. Gredar was standing in the door way, ears half flat in concern. T’meen

bowed. “Is ashamed. Is sorry. Human bad. Have no words.”

“Is not T’meen. T’meen say how day-neh protect? Protect day-neh? Say about huu-man thing?”

T’meen looked up at his handsome, brave friend. Imagined him dead in the snow, his elsart fur on

fire, his brains blown out of his clever, creative head. “Yes. Temin say. Gredar, Martek, Jaijair learn. All

learn.”

If that made him a traitor to his kind, then so be it. The human race wasn’t going to kill another world

like they’d destroyed their first home.

~~~~~~~~

“T’meen! Where’s Uncle Gredar?”

Temin rubbed his forehead and laid the paintbrush down. “Uh, he go to see the wood collectors. Why,

Karwa?”

The young day-neh sat down on the floor next to Temin’s low bench. “Uncle Gredar said he will take

me hunting. You come?”

“Uh...when?” Had Gredar mentioned this before? “Soon?”

Karwa nodded, his tail flicking happily. “Yes, soon. You come with us?”

“Hunting? I don’t know how to hunt.”

“It’s fun! Gredar is great hunter. He teach me to hunt kizaz.”

“Kizaz?” Those great winged snake things? Temin shuddered. “No thanks.”

Karwa grinned and nudged him. “Yes, thanks.”

“Ha ha. Funny day-neh.” Karwa chirruped, pleased at getting a rise out of him. Temin thought the

boy had to be related to Martek—they had the same lousy taste in jokes. “Gredar back soon.”

“Okay. I come back.” And then he loped off.

Temin shook his head. Karwa had picked up the most Standard of all of them, and when Temin was

talking to him, he couldn’t remember afterwards which language they’d been using half the time. ‘Okay’ was

the one word that most of the clan had picked up from him.

He finished the bowl he was working on and put it on the shelf to dry. It would be fired overnight,

and then put with the rest of the goods Gredar was planning to take with them to the gathering in a

moonsweep. Now that was a point. When was Gredar supposed to be taking that kit hunting if he was

travelling and working hard before that? Slacker.

He stood and stretched. “T’meen! Want some water?” Jelal called from the sink.

“Yes, please.” He walked over and accepted a cup from his friend, as well as a leather to wipe his

hands and face. “Karwa say Gredar is going hunt...hunting?”

Jelal nodded. “Maybe. Promise Karwa long time ago. You go with him?”

“Maybe. Er....is dangerous, hunting kizaz?”

“Oh yes.
Very
dangerous.” Then Jelal fell about at his reaction. Temin poked him in the knee but it

only made him giggle more.

“Shefting comedian,” he said, making sure to enunciate clearly. Most of them knew what ‘shefting’

meant too, now. He handed Jelal the cup and leather to put back on the sink. “I finish now.”

“Yes. Me too. You go to Kadit’s house now? Or wait for Gredar?”

“Go now. Gredar can find me.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow.” Jelal patted him on the head and then Temin walked out into the cool

spring evening.

It was easier now the snows had gone, though it was still damn cold at night. The day had been

beautiful though—the weather this last week had turned sunny and warm. It had made him homesick again—

it was so like spring on Venshu, up in the Hortan mountains where he and Jeng had gone on holiday a few

times. He looked up into the blue sky, and at the sun, and the faint pale bodies of the triple moons. He

wondered where Jeng was now, and if he was happy. He wondered how his sisters were going in their jobs,

and what his mother was doing. He wished they could know he was safe and well and...doing okay, actually.

Sometimes, a lot more than okay.

He sighed and walked on up the street. A couple of day-neh waved and said hello. None of them

came up to try and rub their heads on him today, but it wasn’t anything unusual if they did. His lack of scent

glands had puzzled them for a long time, but they all seemed used to his strangeness now.

“T’meen! Wait!”

He turned, and smiled as Gredar came loping up the street. “You gone long time.”

“Sorry. I was talking.”

“Hah. You talk always too long.”

Gredar tapped him with his tail for his cheekiness, then put his hand on Temin’s shoulder.