STRANGE SCIENCE FICTION AND FANTASY OMNIBUS (12 page)

Hope wanted very much to have the umbrella reach her father by his birthday. The only solution was to drive home, pick up the umbrella, which had already been wrapped, and mail the package at the post office on her way back to the office. Taking an early lunch, she went down to the State Department garage, got into her car and drove home.

Hope entered her house; her thoughts concentrated on locating the umbrella and getting it to the post office to mail within the time left of her lunch hour, Suddenly, she became aware of a voice emanating from her office upstairs. Softly she climbed the stairs, taking pains to make no noise. There was no mistake. The refrain was familiar: “This is Xilback Four calling Xilback Controller. Come in Please. This is an emergency message. My ship has crashed on earth and cannot be repaired. Request immediate retrieval.”

Peeking into the room, Hope confirmed what she suspected. There could be no possible mistake. Rasputin was seated at her desk, repeating the phrase over and over again. She did not know what to do. What to say? Should she confront him or pass it off as a big joke? Uncertain as to the proper response, she retreated downstairs as silently as she had mounted the stairs, left the house, returned to her car, and drove back to the State Department.

Needless to say, she was unable to do any work. As soon as the wall clock indicated the formal end of the business day, she left her office and drove home. Her house, when she entered it, seemed perfectly normal. She climbed the stairs and entered her bedroom. Rasputin was sleeping quietly on her bed. Everything appeared perfectly normal. It would be so easy to close her mind to what she had witnessed only a few hours before.

As she stood there, deep in thought, Rasputin opened his eyes, jumped off the bed and raced to her feet and leaped up, grabbing her neck with his paws as he had done so many nights before. He began to purr and to lick her face. This time, Hope’s reaction was different. Grabbing him roughly, she pushed him hard down onto the bed. The cat looked at her with his brilliant green eyes, and his purring trailed off. They stared at each other silently.

“All right,” she said her voice cold and steely, “Do you have something you wish to tell me?”

The cat didn’t answer. Hope rarely lost her temper, but it was a mistake to rile her. On those few occasions it occurred, the recipients of her wrath learned how ruthless she could be.

“Rasputin or whatever your name is. I know you can understand every word I say and that you speak perfect English. I came home at lunch time and heard you talking into your transmitter. Should I address you as ‘Xilback Four?’” she added sarcastically.

The cat’s green eyes peered into hers. Then he said, “I’m glad I no longer have to play this charade. I really didn’t enjoy deceiving you. I have come to regard you as a close friend, and I am certainly grateful for your taking me into your home. Xilback Four,” he added, “Is not my name but my call signal to Xilback Control. My real name would be far too difficult for you to pronounce. I come from a planet at the far side of the Galaxy and from a civilization far in advance of that on earth.”

“All right,” Hope said, and then paused. It was hard to believe what the cat was saying. Still, if it was true, it would explain what she had seen and heard. “What do I call you?” she asked.

“Please continue to call me Rasputin. I like the name. I have studied your history and culture, and I know all about the Russian peasant mystic Rasputin and his strong political influence in the court of the last Russian Tsar, Nicolas II.”

Hope pondered these words. “Then please tell me what you are doing her?” she asked skeptically.

“As you probably heard me tell Xilback Control,” the cat answered, “That my ship crashed on earth. Earth is the section of the Galaxy I am responsible for, and I have to visit the area frequently to make certain things are not getting out of hand. Those nuclear explosions you have been conducting have alarmed my people. Unfortunately, my ship’s propulsion system failed and I was unable to land the craft properly. When I determined it was too badly damaged for me to repair, I was obliged to destroy it.”

“Why destroy it?” Hope inquired.

“Come now,” Rasputin answered. You’re intelligent enough to have figured out the reason. We certainly don’t want earthlings to study the space craft and possible construct one. Not with your low levels of intelligence and propensity to experiment with dangerous weapons. Fortunately,” the cat went on, “I had been thoroughly briefed on what I should do if my space ship crashed here. I also took off all my clothing and destroyed the garments at the same time.”

“Why go around without clothes?” Hope asked, puzzled. “Of course, your fur is attractive, but I would think that after wearing clothing, you’d be embarrassed walking around Washington naked.”

It does take some time to get used to,” the cat admitted. But I couldn’t take the risk of being identified as an extraterrestrial. If my true nature were to become known, I would either be encaged in a laboratory and studied and possibly be dissected by your scientists or lynched by religious fanatics claiming I could not be intelligent because I am not made in the image of your God. Fortunately, I look enough like one of your domestic cats to be able to pass as one.”

Hope could not argue with the cat’s logic. “Well then,” she asked, “How did you end up on my front step?”

“That’s simple,” he responded. “The telepathic powers of my species are rather limited, certainly when compared to some of the other intelligent species in the Galaxy. However, they were sufficient for me to observe while passing your house that some individual living there liked cats and was hoping to adopt one. The solution to my dilemma was there before me. I lay down on your step to wait until you opened the door and found me. It was a virtual certainty that you would take me in and make me comfortable. To increase my chances of success, I messed up my fur to appear forlorn, even putting an imitation scab on my back.”

Hope sat back and thought over all that Rasputin had said. She could, of course, simply throw him out, but that didn’t seem charitable. Moreover, he had become a friend. Now that she could speak with him, he would be an even better companion. “All right,” she said. “What do you propose we do?”

“I can appreciate your reluctance,” the cat said softly, “And if you wish me to leave, I will do so quietly. However, I would very much like to stay with you. I have no earth coins to pay for the added cost, but I will try to make myself even more useful to you than I was in the past.”

“Useful?” she asked dubiously.

“You know the sump pump you have in the basemen?” he explained. “Remember you found one day that there was water in the basement, and the pump didn’t work. You planned to call a repairman when you returned home from work. I repaired it while you were away, and led you downstairs to the basement when you returned home. It was difficult persuading you to follow me, and I couldn’t speak to you without revealing I was not really an earth cat.”

“So that’s why the sump pump worked that evening,” Hope said. “I wondered how it had somehow repaired itself.” She found herself automatically petting Rasputin and stopped, abruptly. To cover her embarrassment she asked, “Were you responsible for the extra pizzas I was charged for on my credit card bill?”

“I was,” he said, looking ashamed and hanging his head. “It was easy for me as I knew your credit card number. I tried to limit my orders and hoped you wouldn’t notice them.”

“But why?”

“It’s that dry cat food you’ve been feeding me. It’s edible but no more than that. How would you like to eat that stuff and nothing else? I used to watch you eating the pizza each week with my mouth watering, but I couldn’t ask you for a piece.”

Hope had to admit Rasputin’s justification was reasonable. “All right,” she said. “From now on, when I order a pizza I will share it with you.”

“But what about that rare Egyptian book I was charged for? Were you somehow involved in that? What on earth would you want with an antique book on that subject?”

Rasputin looked more ashamed. “It was a rare case of an error in judgment on my part. I browse the internet daily using your computer while you’re at the office. When I came across that ad by the London dealer, I was curious about the Egyptian book he described and looked it up further. It turned out that the old Egyptian manuscript it reprinted was copied from a still earlier source and that it contained mathematical calculations I thought might be useful in increasing the strength of my transmitter. I was under the impression that it had been sent to me on approval and that I could quickly copy the calculations and return the book to the dealer. You can imagine my chagrin when I found he had already billed you for it.”

“I couldn’t leave it lying around the house for you to find it, and I couldn’t bring myself to destroy such a valuable volume. Therefore, I donated it in your name to one of the university libraries, using some of the most technical provisions in your tax code to maximize its value to you as a charitable deduction. It shouldn’t end up costing you very much, and I can more than re-coop your net loss if you allow mw to assist you in filling out your income tax returns this year. I have examined your last year’s return and have found several ways I can reduce the amount you have to pay.”

It was Hope’s turn to feel embarrassed. She had to explain to Rasputin how she had refused to pay for the book she had not believed she had ordered, and how to the credit card company had agreed to cancel the debt. “The only ethical thing I can do now,” she said more to herself than to the cat, “Is to write them apologizing for my error and enclosing a check for the cost of the book.” Rasputin tactfully turned the conversation to other things.

Following this lengthy discussion, the close friendship between Hope and Rasputin reached new heights. Each evening, the cat would joyously welcome her arrival as before. She took to preparing dishes for dinner that she thought Rasputin would enjoy more than the dry cat food. Twice a week, she would order delivery of a pizza, which they would share. After dinner, they would settle together on the sofa, sharing a blanked, and watching news programs on TV.

The thing that Hope enjoyed about their new relationship was the ability to chat with Rasputin every evening as they had dinner. No longer obliged to conceal his ability to speak, Rasputin and Hope had lengthy discussions about foreign affairs. Hope was amazed to find that Rasputin had a much better knowledge of the subject than did the State Department officials with whom she worked each day. Their talks reminded her of the many conversations she had had with her parents on the subject before she had left home.

One evening, Hope returned home to find Rasputin waiting anxiously for her at the door. He leaped up and hugged her as he did every night, but she sensed his excitement.

“Wonderful news!” he told her. “I finally managed to contact Xilback Control today. They are sending a ship here to take me back to my home planet. There’s only one trouble,” he added, his voice becoming sorrowful. “I shall hate to leave you.”

Hope’s heart fell at hearing the news of the cat’s imminent departure. “Isn’t there some way you could stay here with me? I’d even eat pizza for dinner every night with you if that would induce you not to leave me.”

“I wish I could stay,” he said sorrowfully. “But I have an obligation to return home and brief them about conditions on earth. I can’t shirk my responsibilities.”

“Possibly I could go with you,” Hope said tentatively.

“That would be possible,” he answered, “The space ship has enough room to carry you back, too. And if you go with me, I will make sure you enjoy living with me on my planet even more than I did enjoy living with you here. But you should know that earth is so distant from my planet that communications are difficult. If you accompany me, you would have to prepare to remain there for some time. Hope sat down and began to review her options.

The next day, Hope’s employees were surprised to find her not at her desk when they arrived at the office. She almost always was the first one to arrive. By noon, she had still not turned up. This was most unusual. She always notified them beforehand if she was taking leaving or otherwise be absent and had appointed one of her unit chiefs to act for her in her absence. On the following day, she was still absent. Phone calls to her home elicited no response. Finally, her employees felt they had to notify State Department Security of her absence.

On the next day, two State Department Security officials came to her house. When she did not answer the bell, they tried the door and found it unlocked. The house, when they entered, was clearly vacant. All Hope’s things were in order; there were no signs of violence. Subsequent calls to her banks revealed no large cash withdrawals or other indications of a planned departure. Frustrated, the officials notified the Washington police, who conducted the usual missing persons’ type investigation. They, too, could come up with no explanation for Hope’s disappearance. Hope has still not returned, and the case remains in the open investigation file of the Washington police.

There is only one footnote to this story. On his birthday this year, Hope’s father found a letter from her in hi mailbox. The handwriting on the envelop was clearly Hope’s. Surprisingly, the envelop bore no postage stamp and was crumbled, as though it had traveled a long way. In the letter within, Hope expressed her best birthday wishes to her father. She added that she was on an extended vacation and was having a wonderful time. She would fill her parents in on the details when she got back home.

When he returned the letter to the envelop, Hope’s father saw what appeared to be a long hair at the bottom of the envelop. He took it out and examined it. It resembled a cat’s whisker but was far longer than any whisker had ever seen on a cat. On a whim, he gave the whisker to one of his colleagues, a biology professor, and asked him if he could properly identify the hair. The Biology professor came to his office the next day, returning the hair. “This is the damnedest thing,” he said. “Where did you get it? I examined it carefully. I would swear that its molecular structure is different from anything that has ever been reported.”