Pet Noir (12 page)

“Dang,” said Spats, looking up with drops of sauce clinging to his whiskers. “You uptown guys got it good.”

I glanced at Butch, who shrugged. “It ain't a bad life,” he said, then dove back into the shrimp.

I thought about that while I chewed a chunk of lobster. Not everything I'd done in the past few days had been a barrel of chuckles, but there had been some good times. I'd seen things I'd never imagined, and done things I'd never expected, and eaten things more wonderful than I'd ever dreamed of.

Yeah, I concluded as I returned my attention to the shrimp. Life could suck a lot worse than this.

Things were quiet for a while after the Stratoma case wrapped up. Devin threw his warehouse one-all in the recycler and reverted to his usual wardrobe, looking like he'd dressed out of the laundry hamper, which often as not he had. I got the perks I'd demanded and though Devin and I didn't always see eye to eye (well, physically we almost never), we settled into a fairly comfortable routine.

Devin would roll out of bed and dish out some kibble for me, then we'd go in to his office at Security and check the feeds. I discovered my feed account from Astara was still active, so I spent a lot of time at Sheila's desk surfing to keep up with the news and to check out possible ways I could get off Gamma Station. The bad news was that in researching my contract I learned the chief had been right. It looked like I was pretty well stuck until I'd worked off the bill for my engineering.

My typing sucks. Paws aren't designed for it. My feed account includes a state-of-the art vocal interpreter, though, so I can dictate commands. I had to be a little careful about what kind of info I asked for out loud—didn't want Devin to catch on that I was looking for a way out—but by supplementing general searches with a few typed specifics I got good results.

I dictated a vitriolic letter to Jill. Didn't send it, but it made me feel better.

Now and then Devin and I would go out on a call, usually some minor security infraction. Sometimes the chief would assign us to stake out Customs up by the inbound lifts. The first time he sent us there was right after I romped across his desk one day (the door was open, how was I to know that didn't mean I could go in?) and knocked a stack of papers and an expensive paperweight onto the floor. You'd think something that heavy wouldn't break.

Customs was usually boring, but one day we caught a couple of tourists trying to sneak expensive stuff through without paying the duty. I'd been strolling through the lines, and when I smelled fear sweat on a couple of geeks in Hawaiian print clingsuits. I pointed out the source to Devin, who took them aside for a level 5 search. Turned out they had a bunch of gem quality Rastovian calcacite hidden inside cheap statuettes of Glyxoma, the eight-breasted war goddess of Frombonia.

After that Devin and I spent a lot of our time at Customs, unless there was a more important case going on. Devin was given a bonus for the collar, and I negotiated an equivalent bonus to go against my contract debt. The chief wasn't too happy about that, but he could hardly say no since it had been me that fingered the perps.

My kitten fluff shed out and was replaced with a long, sleek, blue-gray tabby coat, chest and ear tufts a fine silver-white. I was growing fast. Every morning I'd stretch up to try for the access pad by Devin's door. I knew my access worked, because Devin picked me up once and let me thumb the pad to show me. Couldn't quite reach it on my own yet, but soon.

When things were slow and Devin was too distracted by the game feeds to be good company, I'd go out and hook up with Butch to prowl the station. I learned my way around pretty good, and Butch introduced me to the chefs at all the better restaurants. Sue, the executive chef at Steakmeister, took a shine to me and started saving me choice scraps. I gradually lost my taste for popcorn shrimp, acquiring a more sophisticated palate under Butch's expert guidance.

Occasionally I'd go up to the warehouse district and go slumming with Spats. Butch came along once or twice, though hunting mice and rats didn't appeal to him much, and he really hates low gee. It makes his fur fluff out so he looks even fatter, and since he's got no tail it makes him look like a big orange furry balloon.

On our days off, Devin took me to the park. It takes up almost the entire third and fourth levels of Gamma B, and of course there's a matching one in Gamma A. Only the premium skyview spaces on the outer edge of the level are not part of the park. They're taken up by the usual pricey skyview apartments, in this case Parkview Terrace, the second most swanky housing on station. Two tiers of suites overlook the park, which has ceilings almost as high as in the rotunda, to accommodate the actual trees that grow there.

The park was pretty nice. Devin was all proud that he'd brought me to play on real live grass, not realizing that I'd never seen the stuff before. It smelled funny, and it grew out of actual dirt, which I thought was quaintly old-fashioned and a little gross. I got used to it, though, and had a pretty good time playing hide and seek in the bushes, especially when Devin got hungry and wanted to leave.

I was romping along beneath a hedge, staying just out of Devin's reach, when I caught sight of a pair of green eyes watching me through a screen of heart-shaped leaves. I stopped, transfixed. The eyes were feline, but I knew they didn't belong to Butch (too small) or Spats (too straight). They seemed to be floating in the shadows between the leaves and little clusters of pale purple flowers that gave off a heady perfume. Behind the plant smell was another scent that reminded me of Ma but created an entirely different, and unfamiliar, reaction in me.

I moved slowly toward the eyes. They blinked and retreated a little into the darkness, and I heard a tiny, uncertain “mew.”

That sound did something strange to my insides. Made me want to reassure the lady that no one would touch her. Except me. I wanted to touch her, definitely. A lot. Wasn't sure how or why, but I knew I wanted to get closer.

“Hello,” I said, taking a step toward the bush.

A rustling sound was followed by the eyes blinking at me from farther back in the foliage. I paused.

“Don't worry,” I said. “I won't hurt you.”

She mewed again at that, a heartbreaking sound. I could tell she was unhappy and I wanted to make everything right, though how I could do that I had no clue. I took another step, very slowly. My ears were pricked high and my heart was going like thunder.

“Leon!” Devin called.

He was close behind. I could hear him crashing around in the bushes, trying to find me. The green eyes retreated even deeper into the shadows, glowing at me with reflected light. I knew if I let her get away, I might never see her again.

I dove into the bush, purple flowers whapping me in the face, a perfumed punishment. Branches made a latticework ceiling over a small cave of space around the silvery-gray trunk. Crouched in the darkest shadow was a female cat, the most gorgeous I'd ever seen.

She was tiny, her head and body sleek and perfect, lines like an Egyptian princess. Her fur was a warm midnight, her tail a curvaceous counterpoint to her mood, trembling and poised for flight.

“Don't worry,” I said softly. “I'm here now. No one can hurt you.”

What an asinine thing to say, but at the time I completely meant it. Being in her presence made me act like a total sap.

“Leon! Come out of there!”

My tail twitched, but I kept my eyes on her face. “He means me. Don't worry, he's harmless.”

I moved a little closer to where she was huddled in the shadows. She cringed slightly, then all at once she stood up and stretched her head toward me, nose quivering.

“Leila?” called a woman's voice. “Where are you, cherie?”

The sleek, dark head turned toward the sound, which came from the opposite side of the bush from where Devin was crashing around.

“Hey, Leon!”

She looked back at me. I craned my neck, drinking in the smell of her.

“Leila!”

“Leon!”

Our noses touched. She stood still for a second, then darted away toward the woman's voice. I was about to follow when a loud crash preceded the grabbing of my tail.

“Gotcha!” Devin said.

“Yeowrrr!”

I turned on him, hissing, and barely kept myself from slashing him. He must have seen the lack of amusement in my eyes, because he hastily let go of my tail.

I turned toward the mysterious beauty again, but it was too late. A few meters away a tall, slender human female was crouching down and gathering her into a lilac-colored handbag.

The human was blonde and quite shapely, a little thin by Devin's standards but very pretty in a stylish way. She wore an actual dress, a gravity-bound style that was fashionable among the station's richest residents. It was the same shade as the hangbag, which she picked up and carried away. A small dark head peeped out of the bag, gazing back at me.

I bounded out of the bush after them and caught up in a few strides. My heart's desire ducked down into the bag, and I hesitated. Clearly, she didn't want my attentions, at least not in the presence of her human. I couldn't help myself, though. I called out to her.

“Leila! I want to help you!”

The dark head peeped out of the bag, eyes wide. “How can you help us?” she said.

“What are you yowling about?” demanded the blonde, stopping to look at her cat. She caught sight of me and frowned. “Shoo!” she said, and stalked off.

I stared after her as she strolled away, hips swaying and gently bouncing the lilac bag. Leila's incredible green eyes gazed at me for a second, then she retreated into the bag again.

“Nice gams,” Devin said, coming up beside me. “Didn't know you were a leg man, Leon.”

I shot him a look but didn't say anything. The blonde was leaving the park, heading toward Parkview Terrace. I watched her go into a ground-level suite.

“Who's that woman?” I muttered.

“Shh,” Devin said. He reached for me, hesitated, then picked me up and started carrying me toward the lifts. “I don't know who she is. Never seen her before. How about some popcorn shrimp?”

“How about Ling-Ling's?” I countered, keeping my face turned toward Devin's chest and my voice low so no one could hear. “Maybe she's new. Security records all the station's residents, right?”

“We can check on it after we eat.”

For once, I was more interested in information than in food. I was heartened to know that the stranger was living in an apartment, but that might not mean she was a permanent resident. People came and went, and sometimes the layover was long, especially if someone was traveling to one of the more remote colonies. I didn't want to wait and look her up tomorrow only to find she was gone.

Devin took me to Ling-Ling's and ordered a gargantuan amount of food. I garfed down my order of garlic shrimp and waited none too patiently for Devin to finish masticating his lo mein.

I couldn't stop thinking about those green eyes and the note of fear in that sad mew. I had to know more about the mysterious beauty, and that meant checking up on her human.

Finally Devin packed our trash into the recycler and started for Security. I trotted along a little ahead of him. My legs were longer now, and I rarely had trouble keeping up with him anymore. That day it felt like he was going twice as slow as usual.

Finally we reached Security and walked past Bligck, the aqua guy, who manned the front desk most days. Since we'd wrapped the Stratoma case we were entering the station by the front door, though Devin and the chief were still the only people who knew about my engineering. The rest of the Security staff just thought Devin had gone nuts and acquired a pet.

I played along with that. You can pick up a lot by looking guileless.

Speaking of which, I paused to give Bligck a wide-eyed “Prrt?” and was rewarded with one of his custom-cooked popcorn shrimp. He always asked the Zip Fix guy to undercook them. It left the batter kind of mushy, but the shrimp were really succulent.

I swallowed the one Bligck tossed me and gave an appreciative wave of my tail as Devin and I passed the desk. Bligck smiled and nodded, then went back to monitoring the Security feeds.

In the office I hopped up on Sheila's desk and started hitting the data feeds. The address on the apartment was no help—it was registered to the Immigration Assistance bureau. Standard process for newcomers. Not everyone can handle station life, so there's a six month trial period. If she decided to stay the lease would be transferred to her name.

I pulled up the immigration records and quickly whittled down the list to a dozen females who had come to Gamma over the past year. I started bringing them up on the holo. The fifth one was a visual match, and I told the feed to hold while I looked over the record.

“Elsa Grippe,” I read aloud.

Devin came to look over my shoulder. “Looks happier in that holo.”

“Yeah.”

I hadn't really thought about it at the time, but the blonde had been frowning in the park. I'd attributed it to concern over that gorgeous dark cat. Maybe there was more to the story, though.

“She works for Megalink,” I said, still reading her file. “What's that?”

“They run the com feeds for the whole station,” Devin said.

“Everything?”

“Well, Security has its own link to Intergal and the non-public data feeds. But Megalink runs all the commercial communications.”

I looked back at the file. “What does an accountant do?”

“Handles the finances. Is that her job?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm.” Devin lost interest and slouched back to his own desk. “Who'd have thought an accountant would have legs like that.”

I watched him prop his feet up, lean back in the chair, and close his eyes. Looked like I wouldn't be getting much help from him for a while.