I Was An Alien Cat Toy (19 page)

had sex with a giant cat...person. Was something broken in his head that he’d enjoyed it, even after what that

Filwui had done?

He sat on the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands. He was still just a shefting pet, totally

dependent, and he couldn’t realistically see that changing any time soon. He thought of those bits of equipment in Martek’s library—was there any chance that some of the colonists survived? There might be a

hint of that in Martek’s records, but he needed to be discreet. He didn’t want Gredar and the others connecting him to the colonists just yet, if at all.

But if the colonists hadn’t survived...then what? He could fix the podpod well enough to fly—were

the day-neh the only sentient creatures on the planet? Of course, even if they weren’t, it didn’t mean Temin

would be any more welcome or better treated by another race.

“T’meen?”

Temin forced a smile on his face as Gredar’s tail snaked around him, and he turned. “Hi, big guy.”

“T’meen good?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Fraa harsa. Need food. I’m hungry.”

Gredar gave a small growl of assent as if accepting that explanation, but as he sat up, he put his nose

at Temin’s neck, sniffed delicately, then slid his arm around Temin and hugged him close. “T’meen ganaa?”

How did he know?
“Puti. A little sad.”

“Fraa...huu-man?”

“Yes,” Temin whispered. “Need humans.”

Gredar urged him to turn around, and stared down at him with those luminous green eyes, so unlike a

human’s but still compelling. “Gredar no huu-man. T’meen ganaa?” Temin could only nod, too choked to

speak. “Gredar sorry.”

“Not your fault, big guy,” he made himself say, patting Gredar’s chest. “I...Jeng...human like Martek.

Jeng, human, Temin najil. Friend in my home.” He mimed hugging his missing lover. “Want him. Fraa Jeng.

Fraa Temin mother. Want my mother. I miss my family, my lover.”

“Hmmm. Gredar basne T’meen, go T’meen najil?”

“Help me go home? I wish you could. No.” He shook his head emphatically since Gredar was

confused.

“Gredar basne T’meen?” One great paw descended with exquisite care on his head and Gredar began

to stroke him gently, down his hair, down his back.

“You can’t help me. You don’t know how. I don’t know how. I just miss Jeng and everyone, and I

don’t know how to be useless.”

Gredar cocked his head, not understanding a word of the stream of Standard, but it didn’t matter.

“Breakfast?” Temin asked, putting his self-pity aside as the pointless exercise it was. “Food. Harsa?”

“Ye-ess. T’meen cloze?”

“Yeah. Give me a minute.”

To his surprise, Gredar wanted him to go downstairs to eat, not stay in the room. Temin got the

distinct impression this was some kind of test for him and Gredar’s kin, so he grabbed his pack and notes,

and then walked down the huge stairs as proud as he could at Gredar’s side, trying very hard not to look like

a pet or anything like as scared as he felt among these giants. Everyone they met took a good long look at

him. Some stopped to talk to Gredar, a few licked and rubbed heads. No one tried to talk to Temin, which

didn’t surprise him. Gredar didn’t push the issue, but when he walked through a doorway into a large dining

room where at least twenty day-neh were seated at breakfast, Temin balked.

“No.”

“Gredar jersai T’meen. Good harsa,” he added encouragingly.

Temin didn’t care how good the shefting food was, Gredar’s mother and scary relatives were all

staring at him and a couple were flattening their ears. Gredar ignored them, yowled and chirruped cheerfully

as he found a spot at the long table on which the usual mix of meat, vegetables and bread were placed in

large, elegant bowls.

Temin perched uneasily on a cushion next to Gredar as the conversation, which had briefly paused as

they walked to their seat, resumed. Gredar’s sister, J’len, was a little distance away—Temin smiled brightly,

but she didn’t react. Sheft—what had he done to offend her? He couldn’t exactly ask Gredar right now.

Gredar’s mother, after glancing at her son once and acknowledging his greeting, hadn’t paid them any more

attention.

“I don’t know what you’re up to, big guy, but I don’t like it,” he muttered, forcing a smile as Gredar

offered him some freshly cooked bread. “They look like they think I’m their next course.”

He could wring Gredar’s neck for this.

~~~~~~~~

Gredar couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt so nervous, and so determined to hide it. He half

regretted the impulse to bring T’meen to breakfast, but when the little huu-man had spoken of his sadness

over the loss of his home and his family—and a grooming-mate? Gredar wasn’t sure who ‘Cheng’ was

exactly—he had thought the best remedy was to start on the process of integrating T’meen into the household. Martek was sceptical, but Gredar still thought it was possible that if his family got used to

T’meen being around, when the cycle ended, they might simply not bother to ask him to leave.

But his family—certainly Jilen—didn’t feel the same way, at least not yet. His reception was

decidedly cool, although he couldn’t blame T’meen for that—his manners, as always, were impeccable. Ah

well, it was only the first morning.

Things relaxed a little as the meal continued—more open curiosity, particularly when Gredar spoke to

T’meen and was answered, less studied hostility. At least, less from all but Jilen. He needed to talk to her, but

today, he really had a lot to do. He had duties in the household he could no longer neglect, he had to go to the

pottery, and Martek had been most unsubtle about Gredar’s lack of preparation for the singing. T’meen

would have to be left with Martek and Jilen...would have to wait until they both had time.

Sparing T’meen’s feelings, Gredar didn’t linger, though it had been a while since he’d been at a

family breakfast and he had catching up to do. T’meen stood with perhaps a little too much eagerness once

Gredar indicated he was done, but he waited politely for Gredar to tell his mother of his plans and to bid her

good morning.

“T’meen, let’s go.”

But T’meen held up his hand, and then walked over in front of the table—right up to where Gredar’s

mother was sitting. Gredar held his breath—what was his huu-man up to? His mother sat back and Jilen

placed her hands on the table—unclawed for now, but the threat was obvious to Gredar, if not to T’meen.

“Food good,” he said clearly in his peculiar voice. “Thank you, Kadit.” And then he bowed.

His mother glanced at Gredar in surprise before answering. “You’re welcome, T’meen. Please come

tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

And with another bow, he turned and walked back to Gredar. Gredar exhaled, and then put his hand

on T’meen’s shoulder. He didn’t say anything, but he was pleased, very pleased. His mother appreciated

politeness and respect—and if anything would show T’meen wasn’t a mindless animal, that surely would.

T’meen turned and looked up at him. “Gredar very very bad. Bad daiyne.”

Oh. Another expression for Gredar to learn—narrowed eyes and thinned lips meant very annoyed. Or

worse. “Gredar sorry.”

T’meen folded his arms. “Gredar no sorry. Gredar bad.”

Well, he supposed his huu-man was right to be a little angry—Gredar had sprung it on him. “Let’s go

to Martek’s house,” he said, hoping to distract T’meen. He curled his tail around T’meen appeasingly—for a

moment he thought his friend might push it off, but with a loud vocalisation that might have meant exasperation, T’meen allowed it, and started to walk on.

“Gredar?”

T’meen froze as Gredar turned to face his sister. “Jilen, good morning. How are the kitlings?”

“Fine, not that their uncle ever bothers to visit them any more.” Her tail was flicking. “What was the

meaning of that display in there? Are you trying to annoy the family?”

“No, sister, quite the opposite. Did T’meen annoy anyone? I thought he behaved perfectly.”

A low growl rose in her throat. “
His
behaviour isn’t the issue. Since when do pets come to our

meals?”

“Since when is he still a pet?”

T’meen cringed as she advanced towards them—Gredar didn’t move. She bent and sniffed his huu-

man friend, and then Gredar. “He reeks of your scent. You reek of each other—what have you been
doing
?”

“Nothing that hurts the clan, Jilen. Why do you hate him so much?”

She curled her hands as if about to extend her claws—Gredar began to prepare for an attack, unheard

of as it might be for her to hurt him even in play. “I do
not
hate him. I...am afraid, Gredar. Afraid for my kits,

afraid for my clan—afraid for you, my dear brother. What is he? And where are the rest of his kind? What is

he doing to you that you forget us, forget to come and visit my kitlings, that you drag him to our meals as if

he’s a guest?”

“Jilen.” He approached her and rubbed his face against her—she recoiled a little at the unfamiliar

scent on him but he persisted. “If he’s not a pet,T’meen must be a guest. He has no home to go, he has no

friends he can call on. He’s harmless—any of our kitlings could slice him to shreds....”

“No, that can’t be right.” She backed away from him. “Maybe he has no claws but all animals can

defend themselves. That’s what worries me, Gredar. How does he protect himself? Is it through...causing

confusion? Clouding your mind? His kala does strange things to a male daiyne. I don’t like it. I work with

facts, with science. He’s not of our world, our knowledge—and I wish him gone.”

“The surat allowed him to stay.”

Pointing that out made her ears flatten. “Then I want him kept from me. Don’t bring him to the meals

again, Gredar. He doesn’t belong.”

“Are you laying the law down, or asking me as my sister?”

He was putting her up against it. She had authority over him, incontestably. But if she did this, it

would be a breach between them, and she’d always relied on his help and support more than her other

siblings, more than most siblings would even offer. The question was—which was more important to her?

“No,” she said finally, her tail drooping. “I’m only asking.”

“Jilen...he can’t feed himself here, or manage anything on his own. I can’t even tell him to fend for

himself outside because of the weather. Please...give me until snowmelt. I can take him with me to the

gathering, and perhaps we can find another place for him. Don’t make me drive off a friend, when I still can

be brother and companion to you and yours.”

She eyed T’meen suspiciously. “But how can he be a friend when he barely speaks a word of our

tongue?”

“He...manages. He’s learned a great deal such a short time. Maybe you’re right, maybe he’s like my

kitling.” She raised the faintest smile at that. “But I haven’t meant to neglect yours, Jilen, and I’m sorry. Do

you want me to come to you today?”

His appeasing words had some effect, as her posture softened. “Please? Before lunch would be such a

help. You have a way with those two that no one else does, not even Mother.”

“Then I’ll be there. I just need to take T’meen to Martek, check in at the workshop, and then I’m at

your disposal all day. I miss you and the kitlings too, you know. If Filwui hadn’t been such a bastard, I’d

have come to you days ago.”

Reminding her—subtly—that her own son was responsible for some of this situation, seemed to take

more of the fight out of her. “Is he...recovering?”

“Almost all healed. I was going to arrange a bath tonight with some of your disinfectant wash. It

bothers him not to be clean, and he needs to wash his cloze, though I don’t know what to use.”

The appeal to her scientific nature worked, and she relaxed a little more. “The wash should work on

them too. At least he has clean habits. He smells strange, though.”

“I think it’s the lack of fur,” he said, careful not to argue with her. He found T’meen’s scent welcoming, but female senses were always more acute. “We should find him a task—perhaps in the kitchen,

or the dispensary. He has such small, nimble hands.”

“Not the dispensary,” she said, flatly rejecting the idea. “But in the pottery, perhaps. He could make

items for trade. The fact a jopa made them will add to their novelty.”

He refused to bridle at her deliberate misidentification. “True, true. He seems to have some aptitude

for drawing. I’ll be with you within a strike.” He stroked her with his tail, and she allowed it, though she still

looked at T’meen with distaste. As a mother, perhaps she would always take a more conservative line on

such things. Gredar just had to hope time and T’meen’s behaviour would convince her he was harmless.

She passed them, and then Gredar tapped T’meen on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“Jilen good?”

“Ye-ess. T’meen good, Gredar good. Come on.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Temin’s knees knocked as he walked out of the house with Gredar, and for once, he had no problem

with Gredar lifting him up and carrying him. He didn’t need to speak a word of day-neh to know Gredar’s

sister was seriously angry with her brother—or to know it was because of him. The court thing seemed to

have made things worse—was she a friend of Filwui’s? She was Buhi’s mother but Temin could have sworn

she’d been pissed at the little bastard too—and she’d been so gentle with him while he’d been so ill. What