Turning Point (5 page)

“It's exactly what she needs, Peter,” Jack was saying. “Something to occupy her and take her mind off what's happened. Take my advice and go along with whatever scheme she suggests. If looking after a creature as ill as he is will keep her in her bed, I'd go for it.”

Carrie grinned slightly. Trust him to find an angle that would appeal to her father. Jack was almost as bad as him, though, the way he always fussed over her—and Elise. Another wave of desperate loss swept through her and tears stung her eyes.

The door opened and her father came in, followed by Jack and Richard.

In appearance her father and Richard were alike, but on him the dark beard and mustache—longer and bushier—were beginning to turn brindle. Though the years may have lightened his hair, they had not thickened the lean frame that all his offspring seemed to have inherited.

“Well, my girl,” he said, walking over to the table. “Let's have a look at this latest lame duck of yours.

“A forest cat? He's some size, isn't he? I haven't seen one as large before.” Her father reached out gingerly to pat the animal. “He isn't likely to bite, is he?” he asked, his hand poised in midair.

“No,” replied Carrie, putting a hand possessively on Kusac's head. “He's quite friendly.”

Her father hesitated. “You know he's too old to tame, Carrie. A mature wild animal won't take kindly to captivity, nor can they ever be completely trusted.”

“I know, Dad. I only want to give him a chance for his leg to heal, then I'll set him free.”

“Very well. Get Richard to clear some space for him in the barn,” he said, giving Kusac a friendly but cautious pat on the side.

As he did so, Kusac turned his head to look up at him, licking the man gently on the hand.

“Well, he seems very friendly,” he said, mollified, before turning to look at his daughter. “What's wrong?” he asked, seeing her frown.

“If Kusac sleeps in the barn, the cold could kill him. There's no way to heat that place,” she objected.

“You aren't seriously suggesting we bring a wild animal that size into the house!” her father exclaimed. “He could turn on you without warning. I'm sorry, but I'm not prepared to let you risk our lives. It's out of the question.”

“Then I'll sleep in the barn, too.”

“You'll do no such thing! You're far too badly injured to be anywhere but in bed now. There's no question of you sleeping in the barn.”

“If it's too cold for me, then it's too cold for Kusac,” Carrie interrupted calmly. “Kusac sleeps with me, either in the house or in the barn, I don't care which.”

“For goodness sake, grow up, Carrie! We're talking about a wild animal, not some orphaned lamb!” Her father's angry voice filled the room.

Richard sighed and turned his back on them. He hated rows. Funny, but he'd always seen Elise as the argumentative one. It was unlike Carrie to cross their father like this.

“How much older do I have to be, Dad?” Carrie asked quietly. “I'm hardly a child now, and I do know what I'm doing.”

“At twenty-three most girls are well and truly married,” her father grumbled. “If you had a house to run, you wouldn't have time to bring in useless stray animals. I think it's high time I arranged a marriage for you since you don't seem capable of choosing a partner from among the young men in Valleytown.”

“Stop ducking the issue, Dad. The barn or the house, which is it to be?” insisted Carrie.

“Jack? You'll back me up on this, won't you?”

“Me?” said the doctor, pausing as he put on his coat. “I don't want to be involved in a family argument, Peter. I will say this, though. The cat is too weak to be a danger to anyone at present, and living in a cold barn will certainly kill him.”

Her father glanced from one to the other. “Oh, very well,” he said, exasperated. “Have it your own way. You've obviously got it all organized between the two of you. But as soon as he's recovered enough to be moved, out to the barn he goes!

“Good day to you, Jack!”

With that he stamped out of the kitchen, back to work with his beloved wines.

“Thanks, Jack,” said Carrie, trying to stand.

“It was nothing, but your Dad has a point, you know. Our friend could turn nasty at any time.

“Richard, you make some kind of cage to put Kusac in at night; and you, Carrie, you'll keep your promise to me by getting back up to bed before you collapse!” he said, accepting his gloves from Richard.

“By the way, how did you come by the name? Kusac, eh? Not bad, it rather suits him. Well, I must be off. I'll call back to see you both in a couple of days. If you need me, you know where I am.

“Just keep him warm and try to find something light that he'll eat. Soup or something like that. No meat for the time being, and the same for you, young lady,” he said, waggling an admonishing finger in her direction as he followed her brother out through the taproom.

“Good-bye Jack, and thanks again,” Carrie said.

Once they had gone, she ambled over to the stove and began to ladle some soup into a bowl for Kusac. It was a strange name, now she came to think of it. It sounded unfamiliar, yet it did suit him. She carried the bowl back over to him and set it down near his head.

The cat looked up at her, giving her hand a quick lick before raising himself on his front paws to lap the soup. Carrie smiled. His tongue tickled. There was an almost gentle roughness to it. She knew he wouldn't harm anyone, it wasn't in his nature.

As he ate, she pulled up a chair and watched him. His amber eyes never left hers until he lay down, his hunger satisfied for the first time in five days.

With a sigh, Kusac pillowed his head against her hands and closed his eyes. Though he could not yet understand the language of these people, he understood Carrie's thoughts completely. It was to his advantage that they thought he was a forest cat; no one could then betray him, and he would probably learn much more that would be denied to him as an Alien.

Besides, it had been a surprise for him to find two sentient species on this planet, so how much worse would it be for Carrie's people who had only known the repression of the Others? The Valtegans, he corrected himself, drifting off into a contented sleep.

Carrie felt her shoulder being shaken roughly. Looking blearily up at her brother, she pulled her hands carefully from underneath Kusac and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

“What is it, Richard?” she mumbled.

“The Valtegans are searching all the houses. Dad wants you and the cat upstairs out of the way.”

“All right,” said Carrie, getting stiffly to her feet. “Have you finished Kusac's bed?”

“It's in your room,” he replied, reaching out to help her as she staggered away from the table. “I don't know how you're going to manage to nurse our friend here when you're nowhere near fit yourself.”

“I'm fine, Richard,” she said, pulling away from him. “I'm tired, that's all.”

“No, you're not, but I'm not going to argue with you about it. Let's get you and this character settled down before the Valtegans get here.”

“What are they looking for this time?” asked Carrie as Richard lifted the sleepy Kusac.

“I'm not exactly sure,” he said, following her upstairs. “But what is even stranger, I don't think the Valtegans know either.

“Five days ago there was a full-scale panic on. The sky was buzzing with aircars and scouters, all centered over the forest and hills behind us. Not long afterward, I saw something white falling toward the ridge. It could have been anything, a scouter in trouble, even a small spacecraft.”

He fell silent, waiting for his sister to open the bedroom door. When she did, he went in and carefully laid Kusac down on the pile of rugs he'd arranged in a large wooden box on Elise's bed.

Carrie sat down on her own bed. “Well?” she prompted. “What do you think it was?”

Richard shook his head. “I don't know, but the Valtegans are doing a head count as well as searching every house. They want to know if we've seen any strangers.”

“Could it have been a craft from Earth?” Carrie asked bleakly, staring at her clenched hands without seeing them.

“Earth doesn't know about our situation, Carrie. We haven't been able to get a message out to them. Even if we could, it would take years to reach them, and equally long for them to come to our aid,” her brother replied, taking her hands in his and giving them a comforting pat. “And no one could have helped Elise.”

“What does Dad think?” she asked, her voice still tense.

“He says it couldn't be anything to do with the second wave colonists. Their ship isn't due to reach midpoint for another two months yet. In fact, it can't be from Earth at all. That only leaves two realistic possibilities.”

“A Valtegan in trouble, possibly a renegade from the hospital, or a satellite crashing,” said Carrie, looking at him inquiringly, her interest fully caught.

“It wasn't a meteorite, that's for sure. The other possibility I had in mind was that the craft was Alien to both us and the Valtegans.”

Carrie wrinkled her face in surprise, her eyebrows disappearing under her fringe.

“You have to be kidding, Richard. An Alien craft?”

“Why not?” he countered, letting go of her bandaged hands and beginning to pace the room. “No one believed in Aliens until the Valtegans arrived. If there are two species in the galaxy, why not three or even more? Who are the Valtegans fighting, if not other Aliens?” He paused by the window. “Dad thinks it's a viable possibility, and you can't escape the fact that the Valtegans are searching for several strangers,” he said forcefully. “They'd hardly ask us if the strangers were their own people! They aren't from this colony, and they can't be from Earth. There is only one other alternative—more Aliens.

“Don't laugh,” he said irritably, looking away from her. “It isn't that ridiculous an idea.” He stared out of the window for almost a minute before it penetrated that he was watching a patrol of Valtegan soldiers making their way across the main street to the Inn.

“Carrie, they're almost here! I'd better get downstairs now,” he said. “Get back into bed and stop giggling!” He strode over to the door. “Come on! We don't want to draw any attention to ourselves.”

Still chuckling, Carrie took her coat off, threw it across the chair, and crawled back into bed. As she stretched out between the cool sheets, she realized how bone weary she was. She looked over to the other bed where Kusac lay supine among his blankets. The bed which up until a year ago had been her sister's.

“You aren't asleep,” she murmured, “I can tell. Never mind, you play your little game, I don't mind. You're safer to trust no one.” She reached out her hand and touched him gently on the head. “Sleep, you're safe now.”

The door burst open, shocking her out of her nap.

“I've told you, she's ill! Leave her alone,” came Meg's angry voice from outside.

“I decide,” was the sibilant reply as two Valtegan soldiers forced their way into the room. Their energy guns focused instantly on Carrie and the cat as their cold gazes swept the room looking for signs of other occupants.

“What happen to she,” hissed the leader, gesturing to the other soldier to enter and search the room.

“Accident,” said Meg succinctly. “The oven exploded.”

“So.”

Carrie lay frozen with fear as the second soldier paced around the room, moving the curtains, opening the wardrobe doors, and finally lifting the end of her bed to look under it.

She was simultaneously aware of the presence in her mind growing stronger and a low, menacing, guttural sound that built in pitch till it filled the room.

Kusac raised his head and stared at the soldier at the end of her bed. The growl changed to a snarl as his lip pulled back to reveal a set of formidable canines.

The soldier dropped the bed and backed off hurriedly.

“Is no one else,” he said to his superior as Carrie yelped in pain at the shock of the violent movement.

Both soldiers backed out, trying not to appear to hurry, their usually pallid complexions a shade or two paler.

“Next room,” she heard the officer snap.

Kusac's snarl reduced to a low-pitched rumble as he continued to stare at the door. He kept it up until they heard the Inn door bang shut as the Valtegans departed.

“So they're afraid of you, are they?” she said slowly, reaching out to pat him. “Good boy. You keep it up.”

Footsteps sounded in the passageway and Meg entered, carrying a tray.

“I thought it was time you both ate,” she said, putting the tray down on Carrie's bedside table.

She helped Carrie sit up, plumping up her pillows behind her, then setting the tray on her lap. Bending down, she reached under the bed and drew a second tray out from under it. This she cautiously put in front of Kusac's bed and shifted the second bowl of broth from Carrie's tray to his.

“There you are, my boy,” she said. “Anything that can frighten those bastards is a friend of mine.”

“Why, Meg,” said Carrie, as the housekeeper sat down beside her, “you surprise me. I've never heard you talk about the Valtegans like that before.”

“You should have seen the mess they made of the house after they left your room,” she said heatedly. “It'll take me hours to put it to rights. Still, it was worth it. I've never seen them back off so fast in my life before!” She smiled at the memory. “Maybe your furry friend does have his uses after all.”