Pet Noir (5 page)

“You can hitch a ride on my ankle again,” Devin said as if he'd read my mind. “Let's go, while they're busy in the airlock.”

I hopped onto Devin's leg and he pushed off, catching himself on Stratoma's crates. He bounced back and forth between two stacks, making his way to the ground surface, and turned around so I could get off. He uncoupled the containment net over Stratoma's stuff, fastened it to itself to keep the crates from drifting out of it, then headed back to the top of the stack.

I decided to get out of the way. I moved into a narrow aisle between neighboring bays. The bays weren't structural, just areas marked off by green-striped borders on the carpet, each with a number.

Looking up toward Devin I got the feeling of being in the bottom of a deep canyon, or on the street in a city of skyscrapers, gazing up toward a tiny scrap of blue. In this case, the blue was green—reflected light from the control console. Deep shadows slanted down where the cargo stacks blocked it.

The netload of Stratoma crates started moving upward. Devin was pulling it out of the bay to make room for the new shipment. I watched for a while, but the crates were moving so slowly I got bored and decided to explore a little.

I prowled along the aisles, checking out the smells emanating faintly from the crates, watching the bay numbers and figuring out their sequence so I could follow them back if need be. In the distance I heard Devin's voice, talking with the Stratoma guys. Closer by were sounds I couldn't identify, a sort of rustling and a scraping, scratching noise.

Moving slowly, careful not to let my claws pop against the carpet, I closed in on the noise. It was coming from behind a stack of crates marked Food-O. I stalked up to the corner and poked my head around it.

Centimeters from my face was a creature almost as big as me, covered in gray fur with a pointy nose, beady black eyes, and big, yellow, buck teeth that it had apparently been using to break into one of the Food-O crates. It stared at me.

“Got any cheese straws?” it said in a thin, creaky voice.

I jumped and hissed. The thing ran, kicking up scrapings from the crate as it went. By the time I had pulled myself together to follow it, it had disappeared down another aisle. I looked after it, but it was long gone and I didn't want to get lost chasing it around. I had a job to do. Chasing gray monster mice wasn't it.

I retraced my steps, pausing to sniff at the spot where the thing had been trying to break into a crate. It smelled vaguely like the mouse smell I remembered from holos, but there was something different about it. I'd have to look it up later.

Meanwhile, Devin and the other guys were shouting back and forth overhead. I made my way back to Stratoma's bay, which was now empty. I walked out into the bare square of carpet, looking up to see if I could tell what was going on. I heard Devin's pager going off, my cue to be ready.

A little more talk, then I saw a net-bundled mass of crates drift out slowly overhead, emerging from behind a tall stack of crates in a neighboring bay to eclipse the green glow of the control console light. To one side I noticed the stack Devin had moved out, hooked to another shipment's net, just before the new shipment obscured it.

“OK, give her a shove,” said the fish-faced guy's voice.

The net of crates lurched toward me. I was in the middle of the bay where it was headed. I ran, or rather, scuttled hastily, my claws popping with every step.

“Not so damn fast, Vinnie! You'll crush the ones on the bottom!”

The crates were still coming. I wasn't going to make it.

In desperation I pushed off with my hind legs, sailing toward the cargo in the next bay. I grabbed at the net, scrabbling for a hold to keep from bouncing back out. With a mighty, wheezy, crackly sound, the Stratoma cargo thudded against the ground where I'd been a moment before, and started to rebound.

More shouting. I should have been paying attention to what they were saying, but I was a little out of it. Terror does that to you.

When my pulse had subsided a bit and I was able to make myself let go of the netting one paw at a time I started climbing. I needed to get closer to the Stratoma guys so I could hear what they were saying.

Their cargo slowed to a stop, then started drifting down again, more sedately this time. Fish-face was chewing out his crew.

“You're damn lucky the warehouse guy didn't see that!”

“Sorry, Lou.”

“And damn luckier we didn't have fragiles in this shipment!”

Fragiles? Could that mean the contraband enhancers?

“Sorry, Lou. I forgot. I haven't done this before.”

Inexperienced crew. Why? Maybe there was something going on inside Stratoma. I'd have to do some checking.

“You'd better straighten out. We can't afford any mistakes. Got it?”

“Right.”

There was some more grumbling, nothing that seemed important. I got a good look at them all as they left, fish-face and his two grunts, heading back to the airlock.

I was alone. With a jolt of fear I realized I was stranded by Stratoma's cargo bay. I had two choices for getting back to Devin's console: I could push off and float across the vast, empty center of the warehouse and risk getting stuck out there, or I could climb down and try to find my way back on the floor.

Where there were big, monster mice.

This job was beginning to be less fun than I'd expected. It was beginning to suck, in fact.

Suddenly I felt homesick for the nice, quiet, boring lab at Astara. I missed Jill, and Ma, and my brothers and sisters. Having an adventure had been fun, mostly, but I'd had enough.

I was close to the top of a cargo stack, so I climbed the rest of the way up and peered toward the control console. I could see the green light clearly. It looked a million miles away.

“Mew,” I said.

I didn't see Devin. Maybe he'd picked this moment to go to the john.

Or maybe he'd gone home and forgotten me. Or maybe he'd died.

I could be stuck here forever.

“Yeeoooooow!”

That made me feel a little better, but it didn't solve my problem. Since Devin hadn't responded I had to assume he wasn't in the warehouse. Taking a deep breath, I decided to jump for it.

I stared at the green light, straight “up” from where I clung to the cargo net. My heart was beating pretty fast, and I had trouble letting go of the net, but finally I moved out onto the flat surface of a crate. I gathered my haunches beneath me, aimed myself at the green light, and shoved off.

When you don't have much mass, air drag doesn't help.

I drifted across the warehouse at what felt like an incredibly slow pace. I had plenty of time to think about all kinds of disasters, time to regret not taking the floor route, monster mice or no.

My knowledge of space living was limited to what I'd seen on the feeds. There was one low-gee game show that I'd liked, where the contestants had to race through an obstacle course. It had always looked interesting. I now realized it was less interesting than scary, drifting around without any ground surfaces to contact. Those game show people had spotters to help them out if they got in a jam. I had nada.

The green light was there, straight ahead of me. It didn't seem to be getting any bigger. I looked back at the Stratoma bay and saw that the cargo did look farther away. I was still moving, then. I tried to relax, and watched for any activity near the control console. Devin had to come back soon, right? That console was supposed to be monitored at all times, or so I assumed. I certainly would have ordered it to be constantly watched, if I'd been in charge.

The back of my right ear began to itch. I was afraid to scratch it, thinking that might mess up my vector. I licked my nose instead and tried to take my mind off it.

I thought about home. Curling up with Ma and the sibs, taking a nap in the sunny window by Jill's desk. That took my mind off the itch, but it left a hollow ache in my gut instead.

I heard a noise ahead, and looked up to see Devin coming in through the open square of the door, which was in the floor if you were oriented to the control console. He came in feet first, flipped himself around and jabbed the door control with a toe, then started toward the console. I could hear the “skletch, skletch” sound of his static-activated boots.

“Yeeoooooow!”

Devin looked up. “Leon?”

“YeeeOOOOOOOOOOW!”

“I can't see—oh, there you are!” He grinned. “Getting used to low gee, eh?”

I flexed my claws. He probably couldn't see that, either.

“Come and get me, dammit!” I said.

“Shh!”

“YYEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWRRR!!!”

“OK, all right! I'm coming.”

He peered up at me for a second, then unhooked the end of a retractable cable from his one-all and latched it to a ring on the console. He pushed off and drifted slowly toward me, the cable paying out behind him. He was grinning.

“Pushed straight off, eh? It might be a little faster for you to bounce from stack to stack.”

I hadn't thought of that.

It's a good thing that cats can't blush.

I didn't dignify his comment with an answer. Instead I waited, claws ready, for him to reach me. He must have anticipated that, because he reached out and caught me around the middle, holding me firmly away from his one-all.

“There we go. Good flying, partner. Not bad for your first try.”

I hissed, for form's sake. Actually I was relieved to be in contact with solid matter again. Devin reeled us in and put me on the floor by the control console. I went underneath it, wanting the security of a roof close overhead.

“Find out anything?” Devin asked.

“Yeah. We've got mice.”

“I meant about those guys from Stratoma.”

“Big ones. The one I saw was as big as me, with nasty long yellow teeth.”

“Probably a rat, Leon.”

“A rat? Nobody said anything about rats!”

“Sorry, guy. Gotta be ready for anything, you know.”

I huffed in disapproval, groomed a little, then looked up at Devin. He was watching me, lazy eyes amused.

“Did you get the rat?”

“No, I went back to keep tabs on the Stratoma guys. The grunts were inexperienced, seemed new. How big a company is it?”

“Middling. Did they say anything about the new shipment they brought in?”

“Only that it didn't contain fragiles.”

Devin frowned. “Fragiles? That doesn't make sense. Stratoma makes personal hygiene products. None of them should be fragile.”

“Maybe the enhancers are stored in something fragile.”

“Why would they do that? They're inhalers, usually.”

“Don't ask me. I'm just theorizing.”

The sound of the door sliding open interrupted our discussion. I slunk deeper under the console and listened while Devin exchanged greetings with a woman whose voice was loud and cheery.

“Shift change already? Time flies.”

“I'm a little early. Go ahead and go if you want.”

Devin reached under the console. “Come on, Leon. Quittin' time.”

I braced myself for another round of “cute kitten” introductions. The woman was chunky, with dark hair cut short for low-gee convenience. She had a nice smile, and her hands smelled like Zip Fix. That made me realize I was hungry. I put on the extra cute charm in case she had any leftovers, but no grub was forthcoming.

Can't blame a cat for trying.

~

Devin took me back to Gamma B, where I was deeply relieved to be back in normal gravity. We stopped to drop the carryall of my stuff in Devin's apartment, then went up to the rotunda to Molly's, which turned out to be an actual bar and grill with table seating, not just a kiosk.

It was dark inside and a little on the shabby side, but the food smelled decent. As Devin carried me toward the back I looked around for the fish-faced Stratoma guy but didn't see him or his buddies. Devin slid into a booth upholstered in dark red vinylite that had seen better days, and set me on the seat next to him.

“Zip Fix has shrimp,” I muttered.

“Shh. These guys do a triple cheese bacon burger that's orbital. I'll give you a taste.”

I yawned, and curled up on the seat. Devin flagged down a waitress, who sauntered over. She had pronounced curves all over the place, which I knew was an indicator of human sexuality. Devin's grin confirmed her status as a Babe.

“Hi, Dev. The usual?”

“Yeah. Can I get an extra plate for my little friend here?”

She looked at me with raised eyebrows, then broke into a gushy smile. “Aww, what a cute kitty!”

She leaned across Devin to pet me, which Devin didn't seem to mind at all. Figuring he'd owe me, I put on the charm to keep her there—wide eyes, full purr, the works. She tickled underneath my chin.

“Ain't he adorable! Looks like he's wearing a tuxedo, with that white front. You should name him Tux.”

“He's called Leon,” said Devin.

“That's boring. Tux would be better.”

I resisted the urge to unsheathe my claws. I had to pretend I didn't understand what she was saying, so I kept the perky-face on and silently counted to ten.

“Well, I better go put in your order. Wouldn't want you boys to go hungry. You want some milk, Tux?”

I caught myself just in time to keep from speaking. I mewed instead, a cute little kitty mew, followed by more purring.

She grinned. “I'll bring him some.”

“Thanks,” Devin said as she walked away, hips swaying.

“I get it,” I whispered. “You like this place for the scenery, not the food.”

Devin cleared his throat loudly. I hopped down to the floor to sniff around for crumbs. Didn't find anything interesting. The waitress came back with a beer in one hand and a saucer of milk in the other.

“Where'd he go?”

“Under the table,” said Devin.

“Kitty? Kitty, kitty, kitty.”