Three

“Here kitty! She’s just shy around strangers.” Yukiko’s voice was muffled by the couch. Her face, along with her arms, were currently underneath it as she sprawled rump-upwards on the floor, trying to extract the small gray-furred bundle of malice that had already bitten Dagan on the ankle before streaking for the couch and finding refuge there. The air was filled with alarming growls.

“Aww…you’re so cute,” Yukiko cooed, “widdle kitty…c’mere…”

Dagan did not for one moment consider lowering his face to the floor so he, too, could regard Tinkles. He did not want to lose an eye.

The growls turned to a hair-raising yowl.

“OUCH!” Yukiko struggled momentarily, then hastily withdrew from the couch. The back of one hand sported a fresh set of long red welts that went up past her wrist. As Dagan watched, one of them began to bleed.

“Damn,” Yukiko regarded her wounds. “I might need bandages for this one.”

Dagan surreptitiously edged away from the couch. He could hear the angry switching of a cat’s tail, and imagined Tinkles was surveying her territory with narrowed eyes, looking for ankles that did not belong.

“She’s really a sweet kitty,” Yukiko told him, earnestly, “she’s just highly strung, and not used to strangers.”

Wonderful, Dagan thought, but he mustered a smile.
“I’m sure we will get along fine,” he replied. There was a faint jingling from under the couch as Tinkles changed position. At least with the bell on her collar she couldn’t sneak up on him; Dagan wondered briefly if that was the reason why Yukiko put the bell on Tinkles’ collar in the first place. On some subliminal level, an instinct for self-preservation might make a jingling bell on the collar of a homicidal feline seem cute.

“Can you play with her for at least half an hour every day while I’m gone? These are her favourite toys,” Yukiko had risen and, ignoring her wounds, was pointing to a disturbing collection of much-shredded stuffed animals that were missing eyes, heads or most of their stuffing. “She also likes to play fetch with twist ties. But if you don’t throw the twist tie for her when she drops it in front of you she’ll bite you.”

Dagan nodded weakly.

“How long will you be gone, again?”

Yukiko smiled. “With the travel time to and from Lyramé, about two weeks.”

Two weeks, Dagan thought. He only needed to survive two weeks. After that, Meridian could cat-sit: and if Yukiko had to go offplanet while Meridian was still pregnant, he would find a way to force someone else to feed, water and scoop litter for Tinkles.

Dagan realized Yukiko was saying something, and he forced himself to pay attention.

“…looked forward to for a long time. They say it’s really cold on Lyramé, so I’m expecting to freeze, but I’m bringing all my warmest clothes with me. And it will be so nice to see Yves again, I’ve missed him like crazy.”

Yukiko’s face was more animated than Dagan had ever recalled seeing it, although that didn’t necessarily mean much, since he hardly ever saw Yukiko. She was one of his wife’s postdoctoral researchers, one of several newly hired scientists that had been lured to Ception by the promise of interesting work. Meridian oversaw much of the terraforming research that was still being conducted on Ception, the galaxy’s only terraformed planet that was still governed independently rather than by one of the many powerful interstellar corporations. Research results that were obtained on Ception could be published immediately and without fear of censorship by a board of trustees eager to safeguard proprietary secrets; this meant that good scientists were eager to come to Ception, despite the relative isolation of this newly terraformed, sparsely populated world.

“You’re so lucky to have Meridian with you,” Yukiko said, looking wistful. “Ception would be perfect if only Yves could come here.”

Dagan tried to remember what he had been told about Yves, Yukiko’s offplanet boyfriend. He had gone back to school somewhere for something, he couldn’t recall what, and couldn’t leave the program for another four years or so. Perhaps that was another thing he could mention to Ception’s governess, Avesta Brunner-Tsu: Ception needed a good university. Or better still, let Meridian mention it. She and the governess were good friends, while there was a faint mutual antipathy between himself and Avesta.

Yukiko flipped back a strand of long, straight dark hair over one shoulder. She could be considered pretty, Dagan thought, although her features were not classically perfect. Her brown, almond-shaped eyes were slightly exophthalmic, and her nose was a little out of proportion with her high cheekbones and her strong, almost pointed, chin. Her smile was wide and genuine, though, and her laughter infectious. Dagan was glad she had not opted for facial reconstruction, which she could very easily afford— the face she was born with had personality and charm, both of which he felt were generally erased by plastic surgery.

He followed Yukiko around her small prefabricated hut— it was one very much like the hut he had rented when he had first moved to Ception— as she showed him the essentials: where food was, where to get water (apparently Tinkles only drank bottled water) and how to empty the automatic litter-scooper. Dagan was relieved that he wouldn’t have to use an archaic manual litter-scoop. He found his mind wandering, again and again: he had expected to see more evidence of Yukiko’s wealth. Expensive furnishings, perhaps, or electronic equipment. Instead he found that she lived comfortably and simply, with furnishings that were of good quality but inexpensive, and with only one or two potentially valuable objets d’art. One of these, Yukiko explained to him when she caught him staring at it, was a gift from an artist friend— a sculpture of numerous twisting, elongated interlocking rings cast in polished stainless steel. Every so often, there would be a faint, ominous jingling behind him, and he would turn, only to see a gray and black tabby-striped tail vanishing behind a door, or underneath an article of furniture.

“Thanks so much, Dagan,” Yukiko said as she saw him to the door. “I’d be so worried about Tinkles if I didn’t know she was in good hands.”

Dagan wondered how she could possibly worry about Tinkles. The small cat was clearly in control of any human foolish to enter her domain.

“Here’s the key,” Yukiko handed him a key strung to a large, fuzzy purple ball with goggling, rattling eyes. Dagan hated it instantly.

“Well, I certainly won’t lose it.” He squeezed the ball. It honked cheerfully up at him.

“Meridian’s taking me to the spaceport tomorrow morning,” Yukiko said, then: “Bad kitty!”

Tinkles, who had been lurking silently around a corner, waiting for the door to open, gave them a green-eyed, unblinking stare. The small head eventually withdrew.

“I’ll come around starting tomorrow afternoon,” Dagan replied. He only hoped he was able to find his welding gloves by then.

Yukiko gave him another of her wide, generous smiles as she opened the door.

“Great! I’ll see you in two weeks! Thanks again!”

The door swung shut behind her, and Dagan sighed, staring at the goggling purple ball in his hand.

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