by Steve Vernon
“I am honored, Virruni,” Clifford said. “This is a wonderful gesture. But –”
“So gracious of you, Mister Clifford, to accept my gift!” Virruni beamed. The four pointed teeth that were roughly where a human’s canines would be gleamed in the light. “You will be pleased. I will be pleased. We will both be pleased together!”
Virruni slapped Clifford on the thigh. Clifford gritted his teeth and tried not to grimace at the force of the impact.
The alien gestured to Jarn, his assistant, who stood by the wall several feet away. Jarn’s fur was several shades darker, and his robes were a simple, solid brown. Clifford had originally wondered if the different colored fabrics indicated rank or status, but now suspected they merely reflected their wearer's personalities. Jarn bowed and stepped out of Clifford’s quarters into the hallway, presumably to get the pet.
Clifford’s mind raced as he tried to think of a way to politely decline Virruni’s gift. Virruni’s effusiveness made him easy to collaborate with on topics related to language and culture, but challenging to say no to.
“I do not know much about the, um, creatures on your planet, sir,” Clifford said. He resisted the urge to rub his leg, which stung where the eight-foot-tall alien had smacked it. “What kind of pet is this? What will I need to do to care for it?”
He had acquired plenty of firsthand experience with the tiny, biting gnats the Ziztti called nizvi, but aside from that his knowledge of creatures on Tziuna was pretty sparse. Neither species knew much about each other’s flora and fauna yet, especially since most cross-species interaction was restricted to the research bases on both worlds.
An expanded biology department had just been added on Tziuna, so there would soon be an influx of information about the Ziztti’s planet, and that would require a whole new round of language classification work. Clifford was looking forward to that linguistics project, although it would mean he’d have to spend more time with Sheila, who was a biologist, than he was comfortable with. Lately she’d been hinting about marriage and children in a rather alarming way.
His mind raced through the many possible scenarios in which something went horribly wrong and he inadvertently created an interstellar snafu. What if the pet got sick? What if he stepped on it? What if it bit him? Hopefully his new ‘pet’ had very dull teeth. Or perhaps no teeth at all.
“These creatures – we call them kizza – are very easy to care for,” Virruni said. He waved his top right hand in the air while his lower right hand scratched the round, furry belly that poked out from the middle of his flamboyantly colored outfit. “They will let you know if they want something else. It is usually very clear what they want, but if not you may call Jarn.”
Clifford pictured himself attempting to call Virruni’s taciturn assistant in the middle of the night while trying to keep an eight-legged, two-headed creature from chewing on his shoes. That would certainly test the boundaries of the so far friendly relationship between humanity and the Ziztti.
“I will be sure to call Jarn,” Clifford said. “Thank you for this gift.”
Jarn walked back in through the front door. Each of his lower arms was carrying a small cage. He shut the door with one of his upper hands, then set both cages on the floor.
Virruni made a rumbling sound his throat. “There are actually two kizza. I hope you do not mind.” He smiled and touched one of the fingers on his top right hand to his furry chest. That movement was a form of polite apology, but one which Clifford had recently realized was used when a Ziztti was acting apologetic, but actually felt no remorse at all about whatever it was they were pretending to be sorry for. “Kizza are very social animals, and are happier when they have other kizza to play with.”
Two pets? Clifford took a deep breath. “I trust your judgment, Virruni. You know these creatures best.”
“Excellent,” Virruni said. “Jarn, please let them out.”
Jarn bent down to one of the cages. A small, orangish shape moved around inside of it. Jarn fumbled with the latch, then pulled open the door.
The animal sat in the shadows in the back of the cage and made a hissing sound.
Prickles ran down Clifford’s neck. This did not bode well. Having kizza might actually be worse than having children.
Virruni appeared unconcerned by the creature’s behavior. “That one is named Marrlo,” he said. “It is a male.”
Clifford raised an eyebrow. It was unusual for Virruni to be so forthcoming about something like gender. The alien had been baffled by Clifford’s explanation of the various forms of human gender, sexuality, and romantic relationships. It was still unclear whether Virruni had understood everything, or if he had merely learned the correct terms and was parroting them back – something Clifford suspected he himself was doing with some aspects of the Ziztti language.
“Kizza are not...” Clifford paused, trying to figure out how to word his question politely. “They are not like your people?”
Virruni shrugged. “Some beings on our world are more...private...with those aspects. Some are not, like you humans. Kizza are in the latter group.”
Interesting. Or at least it would be interesting if the darn thing would come out of its cage so Clifford could see what he was going to have to deal with.
Jarn tapped the top of Marrlo’s cage, and was rewarded with another soft hiss. He turned to the other cage and opened its door.
“I find that curious,” Clifford said. Was this impolite to discuss? The Ziztti were pretty unflappable, as one might expect from a people who spent most of their time in leisure activities. Or at least that’s what they said they did. For all he knew there was a whole separate sub-culture that actually did work.
A strange, yowling sound came out of the second cage. Clifford swallowed and reminded himself he was a scientist and was curious about the universe. Okay, so he was a linguist, not a biologist like Sheila, but still.
“The other kizza is named Lynar. It is a female.”
A male and a female. That could lead to more kizza...
“Um. Will they...” Clifford glanced at the ambassador and scratched his head, trying to figure out how to phrase his question.
Virruni chuckled. “They will not. They have both been – what is the word? Modified. Is that correct?”
“Neutered?” Clifford suggested, trying not to look too hopeful.
“Yes, yes!” Virruni nodded. “That is the word!”
The door of one of the cages jingled slightly. Clifford watched as the male kizza poked his nose out and sniffed. Marllo’s head was small and furry and round, and his ears were pointed. The kizza leapt out of his cage and landed on the floor with a soft thump. He twitched his striped tail back and forth.
Marrlo looked exactly like a cat.
A big, orange, tabby cat.
Clifford stared, open-mouthed, at the kizza. How could there be a cat here? Someone must have snuck it on one of the ships from Earth. How they’d gotten it past security was beyond him, but there was no other explanation. Or – could it be parallel evolution? If so, could species on two planets really look this much alike?
Marrlo surveyed the room, then sat down and began to lick one paw, then another. He moved gracefully, full of confidence and precision...exactly like a cat.
“Isn’t he magnificent?” Virruni clapped two of his hands together. “We have an old saying, it has been said for thousands of years. A home is not a home without kizza. Your home here, on our world, is now a home!” He beamed.
“Thank you,” Clifford said. A bead of sweat ran down his forehead. He wiped it away, hoping neither of the Ziztti had noticed.
Marrlo apparently had, however. He had paused his grooming and sat with his golden-brown eyes fixed on Clifford, one hind stuck leg up in the air. The kizza stared at Clifford for a long moment before turning back to his task. He seemed determined to have very clean toes.
“Ah, there’s the female kizza!” Virruni said.
Clifford turned his attention to the second kizza as s
he walked out of her cage. Her movements were smooth and contained. Her coat was gray and spotted, and she was noticeably smaller than Marrlo. She began walking around the edge of the room, stopping every few feet to sniff the floor or the wall.
“She’s, uh, very pretty,” Clifford said. “What did you say her name was?”
“Lynar,” Virruni said. “It means ‘great huntress’ in one of our old languages. We have some beautiful poems about kizza written in that language.”
Clifford hoped his linguist brain would file that away because he was totally unable to process it right now. Cats! There were two cats in his quarters!
Or at least two creatures that looked and moved exactly like cats. Maybe they were something else, though. Maybe –
Lynar meowed.
Okay, so they sounded like cats, too.
Lynar walked up to Virruni, sniffed the crimson fabric of his robe, and then began rubbing her head against his furry ankle. Virruni reached down and began stroking her short fur with two of his hands.
“Kizza like to be petted this way,” he said, using a third hand to point at the other two. “See? In the direction their fur grows. They very much do not like to be rubbed the other way.”
Clifford blinked and nodded. Of course cats didn’t like to have their fur rubbed the wrong way.
Marrlo finished his grooming and bounded around the room as if he had springs in his legs. He came to a stop on the floor in front of them and stared up at Clifford, his striped tail twitching back and forth. Marrlo’s amber eyes had vertical pupils, just like every cat Clifford had ever seen back home.
Clifford held his breath as the kizza leapt up onto the purple chair next to him. Marrlo flopped down in Clifford’s lap, curling up into a big, furry, orange ball. He looked up at Clifford and blinked. It was almost like being given a command.
“We have an animal exactly like this on our world,” Clifford said. He began stroking the cat, trying to ignore the fact that his hand was shaking. Could cats have really been on this planet for thousands of years? “We call them cats.”
Virruni wiggled his eyebrows, which meant he was confused. “That does not make sense,” he said. “How could your cat be the same as our kizza?” He shook his head. “Kizza have been a part of our culture since the earliest records we have. You must have an animal that merely looks like kizza. Jarn, please set up the waste receptacle.”
Jarn walked out into the hallway, then returned carrying a wide, gray object that looked like a sphere cut in half. Presumably this was the waste receptacle...or litter box.
Clifford ran his hand across Marrlo’s soft fur. “I’m not sure where that should go,” he said.
“Do not worry,” Virruni said. Lynar had jumped up into his furry brown lap and was stretched out on his round belly, an expression of bliss on her feline face while the Ziztti petted her with four of his hands. Clifford hoped the cats – the kizza – would be able to make do with his mere two hands. “There is a space in your quarters set aside for this.”
Jarn opened a short door in the wall revealing a small, empty cubbyhole about three feet tall. There were two circular, silver-capped outlets set in the wall on one side. Clifford had often wondered what the closet had been built for. When he’d asked he’d been told, “Because the Ziztti requested it,” which was not very explanatory.
The waste receptacle fit perfectly in the cubbyhole. Jarn fiddled with something for a minute, then stepped back. Gray tubes now ran from the object into the outlets.
“See?” Virruni smiled. He picked up Lynar and stood up, setting her down on the purple chair. She turned her back to him and began to lick one of her front paws. “We love kizza so much that we build these into our homes. And into your homes, as you are our friends. We knew we would eventually give you kizza. You are the very first human to have kizza ever. You are our friend! My friend!”
Virruni grabbed Clifford's hand and pulled him up out of his chair, much to Marrlo's annoyance. The Ziztti embraced Clifford, squeezing him with all four arms. Clifford tried to return the hug, which was difficult to do because he was being held so tightly that his hands were going numb. Virruni’s cologne was so strong this close up that Clifford felt like someone had jammed cloves up his nostrils.
The Ziztti released him. “I enjoy our studies together, Mister Clifford. I am very proud to gift you with kizza.”
“Thank you, Virruni, sir,” Clifford said. Maybe Sheila could help him figure out what to do. Was he really going to have to keep the two alien cats? “I enjoy working with you as well. This is a great honor.”
“Jarn has put kizza food on your table,” Virruni said. “Along with instructions.”
Clifford glanced over his shoulder. Sure enough, there was a large container of something on his table. When had Jarn put that there?
Virruni clasped all four hands together and beamed. “We will come pick you up tomorrow morning, right when the sun begins to shine. We will take you to the city. Then you will see more kizza! Goodbye!”
He turned and trotted toward the door, his footsteps light and dainty for such a huge creature. Jarn nodded to Clifford, his expression solemn, then picked up the empty cages and followed Virruni.
A trip to the city, to see more kizza? Clifford had never seen any on his previous trips.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” Clifford said. He took a deep breath and watched as Jarn walked out the door, pulling it shut behind him with one of his free hands.
Clifford scratched his head. Normally he’d be thrilled to be invited to an excursion off the research base. It was very rare that any human was allowed to go to the city, and such an event was always exciting. But normally he wasn’t faced with celestial dilemmas, either.
He glanced down at the two kizza. They sat by his feet, their eyes locked on him. The back of his neck tickled. It had to be his imagination, but he felt as though he were unable to do anything but stare back at them until they released him.
Suddenly both cats looked away. Marrlo licked his right front paw, and began to wash his face. Lynar walked over toward the table where Jarn had set the container of food. She looked up at the food, then stared back at Clifford, her expression full of purpose. She meowed.
It appeared it was time for dinner.
Sheila and Clifford kneeled down on the floor and stared at the two cats, who were curled up together on one of the giant purple chairs. Marrlo had been cleaning Lynar’s, ear, and had fallen asleep with his head resting on the back of her neck.
“They’re cats,” Sheila said. She ran a hand through her hair. She’d let it out of her ponytail, and it cascaded past her shoulders and down her back in a tangle of dark waves.
Clifford breathed in her vanilla perfume and resisted the urge to run his fingers through her hair. He had enough complications to deal with as it was. Besides, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to enjoy a romantic interlude with the kizza watching.
“I know that,” he said. “They have to be cats. But Virruni says they have them everywhere. So someone must have snuck a few cats here when the base was first set up.”
Although that didn’t explain why all the quarters on the base were designed with a strange little closet that the kizza waste receptacle fit perfectly.
Clifford took a deep breath and stood up. Surely there was another explanation.
Sheila shook her head. “That’s just not possible. If you think security is tight now, imagine what it was like three years ago, when they were building the base. But that’s not what I mean.” She scratched the top of Marrlo’s head. He opened one eye just a crack, then closed it and stretched all four legs out. “I ran their DNA and they’re definitely cats. It’s a perfect match with cats on Earth. Absolutely perfect. But...I did more tests. They’ve never been off this planet.”
“So?”
“So these two cats were born on this world,” she said.
“You can tell that from some test? Seriously?”
Sheila rolled her eyes. �
�Of course I can. It’s science. But my point is that these two cats are both around four and a half years old. But the first human ship didn’t land on Tziuna until at least a year after they were born. Do you get it now?”
This didn’t make any sense. Where else could the cats have come from? “No,” Clifford said. He shook his head. “Your test must be wrong. And I don’t believe you can tell all of that from a test.”
“I told you I ran multiple tests.” She rose to her feet and scowled at him. “Pete was right.”
“Pete was right about what? And who’s Pete?”
“My friend. He’s the new guy in the lab. We went to university together.” Sheila put her hands on her hips and glared at Clifford. “You never listen when I talk about my work. You don’t believe me when I tell you what I found from all the lab tests I ran. All you ever want to do is talk about some stupid word you learned from your Ziztti friends. I don’t know why I ever thought this relationship would work out in the first place. I’m leaving. Good luck with your cats.” She stormed toward the door,
“Sheila, wait!” Clifford followed in her wake. “I’m sorry. I just don’t understand how you can get all that information from your tests. I wasn’t trying to be a jerk.”
“Then I’d hate to see you try!” Sheila snapped. She walked out, slamming the door behind her.
Clifford glared at the kizza. They blinked at him, as if they were annoyed at having had to listen to the argument. “This is all your fault,” he said.
Although it wasn’t like things had been going all that well before they’d shown up. He’d been pulling away from Sheila ever since she’d mentioned marriage, and especially since she’d brought up children. What kind of career-minded person wanted to have children?
And who was this Pete guy?
Jarn showed up at Clifford's door bright and early the next morning, as promised. The alien wore a black sash over his left shoulder, and a fedora struggled to stay on his wide, furry head.
Clifford threw on his jacket and looked at Marrlo and Lynar. The kizza sat by the table, their eyes fixed on him as if they wanted something. He’d fed them and had put out fresh water. What more could they want? He took a deep breath and followed Jarn outside to where Virruni sat in a hovercraft.
