Mercedes Lackey - SKitty

But the Lacu’teveras, her eyes still wistfully on SKitty, was not looking where she placed her hand. And on the armrest of the throne was a kreshta, frozen into an atypical immobility.

The Lacu’teveras put her hand—with all of her weight on it—right on top of the kreshta. The evil-looking thing squealed, squirmed, and bit her as hard as it could.

The Lacu’teveras cried out in pain—the courtiers gasped, the Advisors made warding gestures—and SKitty, roused to sudden and protective rage at this attack by vermin on the nice lady who was with kitten —leapt.

The kreshta saw her coming, and blurred with speed—but it was not fast enough to evade SKitty, gene-tailored product of one of BioTech’s finest labs. Before it could cover even half of the distance between it and safety, SKitty had it. There was a crunch audible all over the Audience Chamber, and the ugly little thing was hanging limp from SKitty’s jaws.

Tail high, in a silence that could have been cut up into bricks and used to build a wall, she carried her prize to the feet of the injured one Lacu’un and laid it there.

:Fix him!: Dick heard in his mind. :Not hurt nice-one-with-kitten!:

The Lacu’ara stepped forward, face rigid, every muscle tense.

Spirits of Space! Dick thought, steeling himself for the worst, that’s bloody well torn it—

But the Lacu’ara, instead of ordering the guards to seize the Terrans, went to one knee and picked up the broken-backed kreshta as if it were a fine jewel.

Then he brandished it over his head while the entire assemblage of Lacu’un burst into cheers—and the Terrans looked at one another in bewilderment.

SKitty preened, accepting the caresses of every Lacu’un that could reach her with the air of one to whom adulation is long due. Whenever an unfortunate kreshta happened to attempt to skitter by, she would turn into a bolt of black lightning, reenacting her kill to the redoubled applause of the Lacu’un.

Vena was translating as fast as she could, with the three Advisors all speaking at once. The Lacu’ara was tenderly bandaging the hand of his consort, but occa­sionally one or the other of them would put in a word too.

“Apparently they’ve never been able to exterminate the kreshta; the natural predators on them can’t be domesticated and generally take pieces out of anyone trying, traps and poisoned baits don’t work because the kreshta won’t take them. The only thing they’ve ever been able to do is what we were doing behind the Fence: close up the building and fumigate periodically. And even that has problems—the Lacu’teveras, for instance, is violently allergic to the residue left when the fumigation is done.”

Vena paused for breath.

“I take it they’d like to have SKitty around on a permanent basis?” the Captain said, with heavy irony.

“Spirits of Space, Captain—they think SKitty is a sign from the gods, incarnate! I’m not sure they’ll let her leave!”

Dick heard that with alarm—in a lot of ways, SKitty was the best friend he had—

To leave her—the thought wasn’t bearable!

SKitty whipped about with alarm when she picked up what he was thinking. With an anguished yowl, she scampered across the slippery stone floor and flung herself through the air to land on Dick’s shoulders. There she clung, howling her objections at the idea of being separated at top of her lungs.

“What in—” Captain Singh exclaimed, turning to see what could be screaming like a damned soul.

“She doesn’t want to leave me, Captain,” Dick said defiantly. “And I don’t think you’re going to be able to get her off my shoulder without breaking her legs or tranking her.”

Captain Singh looked stormy. “Damn it then, get a trank—”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to veto that one, Captain,” Erica interrupted apologetically. “The contract with BioTech clearly states that only the designated handler—and that’s Dick—or a BioTech representative can treat a shipscat. And furthermore—” she continued, halting the Captain before he could interrupt, “it also states that to leave a shipscat without its designated handler will force BioTech to refuse anymore shipscats to Bright­wing for as long as you are the Captain. Now I don’t want to sound like a troublemaker, Captain, but I for one will flatly refuse to serve on a ship with no cat. Periodic vacuum purges to kill the vermin do not appeal to me.”

“Well then, I’ll order the boy to—”

“Sir, I am the Brightwing ’s legal advisor—I hate to say this, but to order Dick to ground is a clear violation of his contract. He hasn’t got enough hours spacing yet to qualify him for a ground position.”

The Lacu’teveras had taken Vena aside, Dick saw, and was chattering at her at top speed, waving her bandaged hand in the air.

“Captain Singh,” she said, turning away from the Lacu’un and tugging at his sleeve, “the Lacu’teveras has figured out that something you said or did is upsetting the cat, and she’s not very happy with that—”

Captain Singh looked just about ready to swallow a bucket of heated nails. “Spacer, will you get that feline calmed down before they throw me in the local brig?”

“I’ll—try sir—”

Come on, old girl—they won’t take you away. Erica and the nice lady won’t let them, he coaxed. You’re making the nice lady unhappy, and that might hurt her kitten—

SKitty subsided, slowly, but continued to cling to Dick’s shoulder as if he was the only rock in a flood. :Not take Dick.:

Erica won’t let them.

:Nice Erica.:

A sudden thought occurred to him. SKitty-love, how long would it take before you had your new kittens trained to hunt?

She pondered the question. :From wean? Three heats,: she said finally.

About a year, then, from birth to full hunter. “Cap­tain, I may have a solution for you—”

“I would be overjoyed to hear one,” the Captain replied dryly.

“SKitty’s pregnant again—I’m sorry, sir, I just found out today and I didn’t have time to report it—but sir, this is going to be to our advantage! If the Lacu’un insisted, we could handle the whole trade deal, couldn’t we, Erica? And it should take something like a year to get everything negotiated and set up, shouldn’t it?”

“Up to a year and a half, standard, yes,” she con­firmed. “And basically, whatever the Lacu’un want, they get, so far as the Company is concerned.”

“Once the kittens are a year old, they’ll be hunters just as good as SKitty is—so if you could see your way clear to doing all the set up—and sort-of wait around for us to get done rearing the kittens—”

Captain Singh burst into laughter. “Boy, do you have any notion just how many credits handling the entire trade negotiations would put in Brightwing ’s account? Do you have any idea what that would do for my status?”

“No sir,” he admitted.

“Suffice it to say I could retire if I chose. And—Spirits of Space—kittens? Kittens we could legally sell to the Lacu’un? I don’t suppose you have any notion of how many kittens we can expect this time?”

He sent an inquiring tendril of thought to SKitty. “Uh—I think four, sir.”

“Four! And they were offering us what for just her?” the Captain asked Vena.

“A more-than-considerable amount,” she said dryly. “Exclusive contract on the forcefield applications.”

“How would they feel about bargaining for four to be turned over in about a year?”