by Andre Norton
Produced by Greg Weeks, David Wilson and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+--------------------------------------------------------------+ | | | Transcriber's note: | | | | This story was published in _Fantastic Universe Science | | Fiction_, August-September 1953. Extensive research did not | | uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this | | publication was renewed. | | | +--------------------------------------------------------------+
_An odd story, made up of oddly assorted elements that include a man,a woman, a black cat, a treasure--and an invisible being that had tobe seen to be believed._
all cats are gray
_by ... Andrew North_
Under normal conditions a whole person has a decided advantage over a handicapped one. But out in deep space the normal may be reversed--for humans at any rate.
Steena of the spaceways--that sounds just like a corny title for one ofthe Stellar-Vedo spreads. I ought to know, I've tried my hand at writingenough of them. Only this Steena was no glamour babe. She was ascolorless as a Lunar plant--even the hair netted down to her skull had asort of grayish cast and I never saw her but once draped in anything buta shapeless and baggy gray space-all.
Steena was strictly background stuff and that is where she mostly spenther free hours--in the smelly smoky background corners of anystellar-port dive frequented by free spacers. If you really looked forher you could spot her--just sitting there listening to thetalk--listening and remembering. She didn't open her own mouth often.But when she did spacers had learned to listen. And the lucky few whoheard her rare spoken words--these will never forget Steena.
She drifted from port to port. Being an expert operator on the bigcalculators she found jobs wherever she cared to stay for a time. Andshe came to be something like the master-minded machines shetended--smooth, gray, without much personality of her own.
But it was Steena who told Bub Nelson about the Jovan moon-rites--andher warning saved Bub's life six months later. It was Steena whoidentified the piece of stone Keene Clark was passing around a table onenight, rightly calling it unworked Slitite. That started a rush whichmade ten fortunes overnight for men who were down to their last jets.And, last of all, she cracked the case of the _Empress of Mars_.
All the boys who had profited by her queer store of knowledge and herphotographic memory tried at one time or another to balance the scales.But she wouldn't take so much as a cup of Canal water at their expense,let alone the credits they tried to push on her. Bub Nelson was the onlyone who got around her refusal. It was he who brought her Bat.
About a year after the Jovan affair he walked into the Free Fall onenight and dumped Bat down on her table. Bat looked at Steena andgrowled. She looked calmly back at him and nodded once. From then onthey traveled together--the thin gray woman and the big gray tom-cat.Bat learned to know the inside of more stellar bars than even mostspacers visit in their lifetimes. He developed a liking for Vernaljuice, drank it neat and quick, right out of a glass. And he was alwaysat home on any table where Steena elected to drop him.
This is really the story of Steena, Bat, Cliff Moran and the _Empress ofMars_, a story which is already a legend of the spaceways. And it's adamn good story too. I ought to know, having framed the first version ofit myself.
For I was there, right in the Rigel Royal, when it all began on thenight that Cliff Moran blew in, looking lower than an antman's belly andtwice as nasty. He'd had a spell of luck foul enough to twist a man intoa slug-snake and we all knew that there was an attachment out for hisship. Cliff had fought his way up from the back courts of Venaport. Losehis ship and he'd slip back there--to rot. He was at the snarling stagethat night when he picked out a table for himself and set out to drinkaway his troubles.
However, just as the first bottle arrived, so did a visitor. Steena cameout of her corner, Bat curled around her shoulders stole-wise, hisfavorite mode of travel. She crossed over and dropped down withoutinvitation at Cliff's side. That shook him out of his sulks. BecauseSteena never chose company when she could be alone. If one of theman-stones on Ganymede had come stumping in, it wouldn't have made moreof us look out of the corners of our eyes.
She stretched out one long-fingered hand and set aside the bottle he hadordered and said only one thing, "It's about time for the _Empress ofMars_ to appear again."
Cliff scowled and bit his lip. He was tough, tough as jet lining--youhave to be granite inside and out to struggle up from Venaport to a shipcommand. But we could guess what was running through his mind at thatmoment. The _Empress of Mars_ was just about the biggest prize a spacercould aim for. But in the fifty years she had been following her queerderelict orbit through space many men had tried to bring her in--andnone had succeeded.
A pleasure-ship carrying untold wealth, she had been mysteriouslyabandoned in space by passengers and crew, none of whom had ever beenseen or heard of again. At intervals thereafter she had been sighted,even boarded. Those who ventured into her either vanished or returnedswiftly without any believable explanation of what they hadseen--wanting only to get away from her as quickly as possible. But theman who could bring her in--or even strip her clean in space--that manwould win the jackpot.
"All right!" Cliff slammed his fist down on the table. "I'll try eventhat!"
Steena looked at him, much as she must have looked at Bat the day BubNelson brought him to her, and nodded. That was all I saw. The rest ofthe story came to me in pieces, months later and in another port halfthe System away.
Cliff took off that night. He was afraid to risk waiting--with a writout that could pull the ship from under him. And it wasn't until he wasin space that he discovered his passengers--Steena and Bat. We'll neverknow what happened then. I'm betting that Steena made no explanation atall. She wouldn't.
It was the first time she had decided to cash in on her own tip and shewas there--that was all. Maybe that point weighed with Cliff, maybe hejust didn't care. Anyway the three were together when they sighted the_Empress_ riding, her dead-lights gleaming, a ghost ship in night space.
She must have been an eerie sight because her other lights were on too,in addition to the red warnings at her nose. She seemed alive, a FlyingDutchman of space. Cliff worked his ship skillfully alongside and had notrouble in snapping magnetic lines to her lock. Some minutes later thethree of them passed into her. There was still air in her cabins andcorridors. Air that bore a faint corrupt taint which set Bat to sniffinggreedily and could be picked up even by the less sensitive humannostrils.
Cliff headed straight for the control cabin but Steena and Bat wentprowling. Closed doors were a challenge to both of them and Steenaopened each as she passed, taking a quick look at what lay within. Thefifth door opened on a room which no woman could leave without furtherinvestigation.
I don't know who had been housed there when the _Empress_ left port onher last lengthy cruise. Anyone really curious can check back on the oldphoto-reg cards. But there was a lavish display of silks trailing out oftwo travel kits on the floor, a dressing table crowded with crystal andjeweled containers, along with other lures for the female which drewSteena in. She was standing in front of the dressing table when sheglanced into the mirror--glanced into it and froze.
Over her right shoulder she could see the spider-silk cover on the bed.Right in the middle of that sheer, gossamer expans
e was a sparkling heapof gems, the dumped contents of some jewel case. Bat had jumped to thefoot of the bed and flattened out as cats will, watching those gems,watching them and--something else!
Steena put out her hand blindly and caught up the nearest bottle. As sheunstoppered it she watched the mirrored bed. A gemmed bracelet rose fromthe pile, rose in the air and tinkled its siren song. It was as if anidle hand played.... Bat spat almost noiselessly. But he did notretreat. Bat had not yet decided his course.
She put down the bottle. Then she did something which perhaps few of themen she had listened to through the years could have done. She movedwithout hurry or sign of disturbance on a tour about the room. And,although she approached the bed she did not touch the jewels. She couldnot force herself to that. It took her five minutes to play out herinnocence and unconcern. Then it was Bat who decided the issue.
He leaped from the bed and escorted something to the door, remaining acareful
