by E. D. Walker
As he started down the hallway, the ship began to hum around him in the familiar rhythm of the power up sequence. He made his way down the hallway, padded with faded gray shock foam, and paused in the cockpit doorway. The sky was turning pink with the coming dawn, but it was still dim outside. Aliette’s coppery red hair gleamed in the cockpit lights as she toggled switches and checked readouts, prepping her ship for takeoff.
“Were you going to warn me before you took off?” he asked, teasing. “Give me a chance to strap in?”
Aliette snorted and didn’t glance over her shoulder. “I wasn’t trying to murder you with a rough ride, Zandro. I got a nice delivery bonus from one of my clients and bought the upgrade to those vertical boosters. It makes for a much smoother ride.” He heard the pride in her voice, and there was just an edge of bite in the words too. I did this, she seemed to say. I made all this without you.
He tried not to let it hurt. He wanted only good things for her, after all. Only happiness. “That’s great, Allie. I’m glad the ship’s working out the way you wanted it to.”
“The way we wanted it to.”
He flinched, and her teeth clicked shut almost as soon as the words were out.
Her pale cheeks flamed red and she shook her head.
“I brought you the patch I promised.” He held it out, trapped between two fingers.
“Great.” Aliette gave a small, unhappy huff, but she snatched the patch out of his hands, peeled the backing off and slapped it to her arm in record time.
The ship jittered a bit leaving gravity, and Zandro braced against the doorframe to keep his balance.
Aliette flicked her gaze over him head to toe then looked away. “You might want to strap in.”
Silently, he dropped into the nav chair behind her shoulder and buckled up. The copilot’s chair lay empty, swinging back and forth a little beside her, like it was tempting him to sit there. He settled more firmly into the second row and pulled his com unit out of his back pocket. “Hey, um, do you mind if I record?” he asked.
“Record?”
“For my vid account. Whenever I do rescues I try to get some footage en route. It’s a more efficient use of my time than trying to do it after I’ve got the kittens, and it helps me collect my thoughts.”
“As long as you don’t record me I don’t care what you do.” She toggled the controls and, with a gentle lift, the ship was in the air heading toward the horizon.
Zandro keyed open the app on his com and started recording. He gave a quick rundown of the situation, how he’d been called in, what he knew so far, how he planned to tackle things when he got there, and then he stopped and reviewed the footage. Pretty clean, but he probably wanted to re-record the beginning again—
“Why the videos?” she asked. “Why the big social media presence?”
Zandro couldn’t help the small curl of smile starting on his face. “Do you follow me?”
She made an exasperated noise and shook her head.
Right, he shouldn’t antagonize his ride. “I started after you and I—well, you know I used to watch tutorials and stuff. So I made a couple tutorial videos myself. And then some updates on my fosters when people asked about them. The whole thing just sort of spiraled, and I started making them regularly.
“And it helped connect me with more rescue orgs. People started sending me supplies, then sending actual credits to my bank. I don’t make much, but I make enough to keep me and the cats fed. I don’t have to work a day job. If there’s something else I need—an operation for a cat, meds—I just ask and folks give a little extra. Or donate their services. I’ve got a vet friend who does free consults for me all the time now that I met through my vids.” He shook his head, his insides still warming at the way the virtual community he’d built would come together to help him and the cats. “Being connected to the bigger universe has been good to me, good for the cats. I can’t even count the ways that being on social media benefits my rescue work.”
For a long moment the only sound was the hum of the ship as it pinwheeled through the stars. Artificial gravity had kicked in once they cleared the atmosphere, and now Aliette was getting them far enough away from the planet to make the jump to lightspeed. She cleared her throat. “I’m glad you have more help now. I’m glad you don’t have to scrimp and save and flounder to do your work. I…I know how much it means to you.”
She knew better than anyone. “Aliette—”
“It’s a short hop to the moon so this trip shouldn’t be more than a few hours roundtrip. No worse than a groundcar drive.” Her voice was bright, cheerfully distant. She was plainly Changing the Subject, and Zandro went along despite how his insides were screaming to talk to her, to make her understand.
Instead, he unclipped from his seat and stood. “That’s great. I’m going to get things ready for the kittens.” Zandro took himself off but, as he left the cockpit, Aliette sighed gustily behind him. Whether in annoyance or regret he couldn’t tell.
***
The ride to the moon was as short and uneventful as Aliette had promised Zandro it would be. And she never did work up the courage to call him back to the cockpit to talk.
Like really talk.
Part of it was she didn’t know what she’d even say. I miss you, was a fine sentiment but an incomplete thought. Because really it was: I miss you…but I’m still not willing to sacrifice everything for your stupid cats.
And he clearly wasn’t willing to give them up for her, right?
So, what was the point of talking?
Anteros XII, the moon that was their destination, loomed in her front viewscreen, and she keyed in the coordinates for the sheriff’s office, hoping to find a landing field close by.
She was in luck because the colony on Anteros XII was still so Podunk and small there was only one landing pad, and it was snuggled up right next to the sheriff’s station. Probably because it was easier for them to check cargo. A settlement that small they likely didn’t even have a separate spaceport authority to run inspections. Maybe one harried deputy with a clipboard.
She keyed open the com and hailed the sheriff’s station. “The Dulcinea requesting permission to land. Over.”
“This is the Anteros XII Sheriff Station. What is your business?”
“I’m carrying Zandro Casillas. He’s here for the kittens.”
“Oh thank goodness.” The voice on the other end sounded suddenly breathless and tense. “You’re cleared to land on Pad 4. And hurry. Anteros XII Sheriff Station over and out.”
The com cut, and Aliette shut hers down with a small headshake. That had not sounded promising. She pressed the ship intercom. “Zandro, we’re about to land in five. Are you secure?”
He buzzed back on the line quick. “I’m in the jump seat in the galley. Ready to land anytime.”
Aliette smiled that he was still so up on landing protocols. He hadn’t been on her ship in…well, years. She shook her head and toggled the joystick to ready for descent.
It was a smooth landing on the bare concrete pad, barely a jostle as their landing gear touched the ground. Aliette brushed some sweat off her forehead and grinned.
“You were showing off.”
She startled at Zandro’s voice just behind her, but turned and crinkled her nose at him. “Maybe a little.”
“Ship handles well.”
“I handle the ship well, you mean.” She unbuckled and stood, turning to face him. She was tall but he had a few inches on her. But he was a tall man. He used to love that about her. That she was almost as tall as him. “Perfect kissing height,” he used to say and then bend down hardly at all to demonstrate.
She cleared her throat and eased back from him.
Zandro’s eyes were hooded and dark for a moment, and she wondered if he’d been remembering the same events she’d been. But then he blinked and looked at her, his gaze clear and untroubled, so she was probably imagining things. “I don’t know how long I’ll be tied up before they’ll relea
se the kittens to me—”
“I’ll come with you to the station.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Really?”
“Yeah. They might need me to sign papers to depart or something.” That was a flimsy excuse, but she found that now she had Zandro in her sights again she was curiously reluctant to let him leave. Sentimental fool. She secured the ship and followed Zandro as he led her through the corridors and down the gangplank. As the ramp folded into the ship, Aliette keyed in her security code on the pad under her ship.
Zandro led them toward what looked like the station: a squat olive gray-green building with an ugly yellow sign.
Even as they approached, a deputy appeared, wearing a boxy gray uniform. “Zandro Casillas?”
“Yeah.”
The deputy sagged with relief and made whirling, hurry-up motions with his arm. “Please hurry.”
Zandro broke into a jog. “Are the kittens all right?”
The deputy gave an angry guffaw. “The kittens are fine. It’s everyone else.”
“Hell.” Aliette tossed a glare at Zandro then broke into a run herself.
Inside the station was chaos. One deputy leaned against the wall, waving a hand slowly back and forth in front of her face, smiling dreamily. Another officer lay prone on the floor, probably unconscious, a pool of vomit by his head. Someone who looked to be the sheriff sat sobbing, tied to a chair and gagged.
The first deputy who’d fetched them nodded at the one tied up. “She kept trying to scratch herself. All up her arms.”
Aliette shivered and rubbed at her own arms with their tracks of pale silvery scars. “That’ll happen sometimes.”
Zandro’s hand twitched like he wanted to touch her, but he let his hand fall away instead.
The deputy was actually wringing his hands as he looked around at all of his colleagues. “I couldn’t think what to do.”
Aliette could only stare around in horror. “I’d ask how many of you are affected, but it seems like a better question would be how many aren’t?”
The deputy gave a broken laugh. “Me and one other.”
Aliette glanced over at Zandro. A muscle ticked in his jaw, and he gave a tight, tired sigh. “Are you the person I spoke to on the com earlier?”
“No, that was her.” He nodded toward the individual tied to a chair. “We called for medical, but we’re a small outpost so there’s only one doctor and her nurse, and they’re in the middle of a difficult birth. They said they didn’t have anybody to send.”
Aliette swallowed a curse and shoved Zandro’s shoulder. “Go get the kittens. I’ve got this.”
Zandro nodded, his shoulders sagging as the deputy led him toward the back of the station.
Aliette surveyed the afflicted officers then rolled her sleeves up. This might be the worst set of bad trips she’d ever seen, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t handle it. She scanned the walls and found a first aid kit near the entrance. Yanking the kit down, Aliette went to triage her “patients.”
First order of business, she dragged the passed out guy away from his vomit and dumped him on an office couch. His skin was a little clammy, but his pulse seemed fine. The medkit had a few doses of synerge which might help clear the bajo pheromones out of the system faster. She glanced at the other two, trying to decide who might need the dose the most. The lady with the fascinating hands seemed happily lost to herself. She’d probably come out of this feeling a little hungover but no worse for wear. If the unconscious man were showing more signs of distress Aliette might have given it to him, but his pulse was strong and his breathing even.
Which left the poor sheriff tied to the chair. Her breathing seemed labored, and sweat beaded her temples. Aliette gritted her back teeth, fighting a rush of unpleasant memories that surged to her mind’s eye. It felt like she was teetering over a dark pool, and if she so much as glanced down she’d drown in it.
She shook her head and seized the dose of synerge. The medical professionals weren’t coming, so it was up to her amateur experience to decide what was best. The poor sheriff tied to the chair was getting the dose of synerge.
As Aliette stepped closer, she noticed the chair was actually vibrating with the force of the sheriff’s struggles to free herself. Just in time then. Aliette laid a hand gently on the sheriff’s head to hold her still then pressed the auto-inject against the skin of her neck. The med made a small whirring noise as the needle deployed, and the sheriff flinched as it pricked her neck.
The sheriff’s breath evened out first, and then she sagged against the chair. After another minute, her eyes blinked open.
Breathing relief, Aliette loosened the gag. “There. You’re feeling better?”
The sheriff frowned in confusion, but gave a slow, labored nod. “The fire ants on my arms are gone now anyway.”
“That’s great.” Aliette forced mock cheerfulness into her voice. “You’ll be all right. Let’s just get you untied.”
The door to the station swung open, and an older woman scurried through the bullpen. Aliette paused, watching her. The woman wore a deputy’s uniform and service weapon, but she didn’t so much as pause next to either of her afflicted coworkers. The woman deputy looked skinny, malnourished, but wiry with it, as if all the spare parts of her had been stripped away to leave only a ragged, whipcord strength behind.
Aliette hesitated a moment then stepped up to the office doorway. “Were you out trying to get help?”
The woman froze, and actually half-drew her blaster from its holster as she whipped toward Aliette.
Aliette ducked behind the doorway and raised her hands. All the time, her fingers itched for her own blaster, tucked uselessly in its safe on her ship. “I’m with Zandro Casillas. We just came to pick the kittens up. He, uh, fosters kittens.”
The deputy eased back, but her jaw tightened. “You’re here for the cats?” The deputy didn’t sound happy about it. “That your ship on the landing pad?”
“Yup. And, as soon as Zandro can see the kittens are warm and fed, we’ll be out of your hair.”
The deputy holstered her weapon, but Aliette still hovered in the doorway, keeping herself half hidden behind the wall. This woman had an angry, nervous energy that raised Aliette’s hackles.
“Well, if you’re leaving as soon as all that, I’ll just get your take off clearance sorted out.” The woman narrowed her eyes in a social smile that wasn’t much smile at all and ducked out the door.
Aliette bounced on her toes, pulled in three directions at once: After the deputy to make sure she didn’t touch Aliette’s ship? After Zandro to make sure he was all right? Or stay right where she was and help the poor folks affected by the kittens’ overpowered pheromones?
The choice was taken from her as the poor deputy who’d been peacefully watching her hands waft through the air let out a blood curdling scream. Aliette lowered the sheriff gently to the floor and ran to give the other deputy the last dose of synerge.
This is what I get for following Zandro on another one of his kitten rescues.
***
The deputy led Zandro down a bare beige hallway and into an evidence locker in back. “When was the last time the kittens ate?”
“Um.”
Zandro gritted his teeth, even as his stomach lurched with unhappiness. The kittens had been with the deputies for hours, and they hadn’t even tried to give them anything. “Have you been keeping them warm?”
The deputy clearly didn’t like his tone, because he drew himself up and glared at Zandro. “At first. That’s why so many of our deputies are affected. They took turns passing them around, holding them, petting them.”
Giving them germs. Scaring them. Picking up more and more of the pheromones. Zandro swallowed an exasperated sigh and followed the deputy to where they’d left the kittens. Alone. On the floor. In a packing container. In the frosty evidence room.
Zandro snatched the tiny furballs out of the box and pulled them both tight to his own body. They were older kitte
ns thank goodness. A newborn might’ve been dead by now after going so long without food and warmth. These kittens seemed sluggish, but one of them raised a fuzzy little head to hiss at him. A good sign. If they were strong enough to hiss they would probably be ok.
“You don’t have gloves on.” The deputy frowned.
“I don’t need them. I built my tolerance up for the pheromones. Bring me my bag, please.”
Watching him with suspicion, the deputy dropped Zandro’s go-bag beside him. Keeping the kittens tucked against his side, Zandro fished out a warming pad to heat them up.
Both kittens were fine-boned balls of fluff with long tufted ears and short tail nubs. The hissy one was the little blue. It was three weeks old maybe. Its eyes were open and its ears weren’t folded down. “I’ll get you food soon, small fry. First we have to get you a little warmer.” The other kitten was sleeping peacefully on his knee. Both kittens had thick coats that would be achingly soft once the dirt had been washed away. Zandro just needed to keep them alive that long.
The deputy coughed and knelt beside his bag. “Is there, um, anything else I can do?”
Zandro smiled a little and nodded toward the bag. “I’ve got a bottle of formula premixed in there. Can you put a little into the small syringe for me? I need to get some calories into them.”
The deputy knelt to complete his task. “I’m Miguel, by the way. Sorry I was so curt earlier, but we’ve never had to deal with this kind of thing before. I mean, they’re kittens. How can they be so dangerous?” He shook his head.
“This is a new locale for me too. Most of my rescues haven’t been this far. I guess the drug trade is branching out.” Zandro took the syringe of formula the deputy had made and began feeding the blue kitten. “Where did you find these ones?”
Deputy Miguel folded his arms and leaned against the wall. “A small personal transport was passing through for resupply. Pack of rich socialites. One of the girls went to the local bar with that purple kitten tucked under her arm. I was off duty, but I recognized it was a bajo cat. I, um, I watch your vid channel so I know what they look like. When I asked to see her permit she just blinked at me. She was so wasted. We did a search of the ship and found the blue one hidden under a bunk.”
