Cat Star 04 - Outcast

by Cheryl Brooks

  Vladen nodded, but couldn't help feeling thank­ful that Bonnie wasn't having a boy. "Got any names picked out?" he asked, stowing his scanner in a different pocket, which made Bonnie wonder how he kept track of it all.

  "No," she replied. "I want to get to know the baby first. Then I'll decide."

  Vladen smiled knowingly, his pale blue eyes crin­kling at the corners. "Every new mother has her own pet notions," he said with an airy wave of his hand. "I've heard them all." He glanced down at Bonnie's feet. "Now, my pet notion is that women in your condition shouldn't be on their feet all day. It's bad for the veins." Taking her hand, he examined it carefully. "Hmm, no swelling there. Been taking your vitamins?"

  "Yes, I have," Bonnie assured him. She wasn't com­pletely sure they'd been developed for Terran women, but she'd been taking them anyway.

  "Well, you be sure to rest with your feet up several times a day," he told her. Turning to Lynx, he added, "And call me if you need any instructions during the delivery. My comlink is always on."

  With that parting shot, Vladen shuffled off, and Bonnie was left staring at Lynx, who appeared to be acutely uncomfortable—especially since the look she was giving him should have at least made him break out in hives.

  "So," she began. "You've delivered babies before?"

  "Yes." Having made his reply, Lynx closed his lips firmly, refusing to elaborate. "How many?" she asked. "I do not know."

  "That many, huh? Well, if you ever decide you don't want to work on a farm or in the mines, I'm sure you could get a job as a midwife." Noting his expression of re­vulsion, she added, "And yes, I know just how much you would dislike it—but it would probably pay very well."

  "I have enough pay," he said. Which wasn't entirely true, because if Lynx were ever to be able to buy his own land, he would have to earn a great deal more than Bonnie was paying him. But taking a job as a midwife? He simply couldn't do it. It would have brought back too many painful memories.

  "Then I must be paying you too much," Bonnie de­clared. "Of course, if you never actually spend any of it, I suppose it doesn't matter."

  "I will spend it," Lynx said defensively. Unfortu­nately, since Bonnie was currently providing for all of his needs and he'd never had enough extra money to buy anything beyond the bare necessities, he had no idea just what he would spend it on.

  Bonnie didn't either. "On what?" she demanded, giving free rein to her skepticism. "Couldn't be loose women, and I know you don't like new clothes, so that leaves booze, drugs, gambling—or a speeder of your own, perhaps? No, wait! I've got it! You want your own private dining room where you can eat all alone." Then she remembered that she hadn't asked Jack about Cat's eating habits. "By the way, is that a Zetithian custom or just one of your own little peculiarities?"

  Bonnie knew she was skating on thin ice; another crack like that and he'd probably deck her, but she didn't care, because if he decided to quit his job, he'd have to find another one pretty quick, or Drummond would deport him. Then Mobray could deliver the baby, and Bonnie would feed rats to the enocks and live long and well without Lynx. She didn't need to spend the rest of her life trying to love someone who despised her entire gender. Life was too darn short for that.

  "You do not understand," Lynx said bitterly.

  "You're absolutely right, Lynx," Bonnie said equably. "I don't understand. And do you know why that is?"

  "Because I have not told you," he said, knowing full well that he never had and never would.

  "No kidding! You haven't told me a thing; you just sit out there in the shed and sulk because you had to work for me instead of going off to dig in the mines. Being kind to you obviously hasn't helped matters any, so from now on, no more Mr. Nice Guy."

  "But you are a woman," he reminded her.

  "So what?" she said, making a vague attempt at a snarl. "I can be as mean as anyone. You just watch me."

  Bonnie almost missed it, but could have sworn she caught a faint glimmer of a smile. Not quite what it should have been, but a smile, nonetheless.

  "Ah, so, you can smile," she said. "I was beginning to think it wasn't possible."

  Lynx was spared from having to reply to that, be­cause just then Cat came over, followed by his three sons—who actually looked more like his clones than his children. Carrying a large box and flashing a grin that made Lynx's pitiful smile look like a grimace, he said, "We will trade?"

  "I dunno," Bonnie said doubtfully. "What've you got there?"

  Cat's grin became a full smirk. "I believe you will trade anything for this."

  Bonnie peered into the box and nearly fainted. It was full of bags of dark chocolate chips. "You drive a hard bargain, Cat," she sighed. "How many eggs do you want for that?"

  "How many do you have?" he asked with a sugges­tive smile.

  "Well, I saved a full crate for you," she said, "but I might have to throw in something else for a treasure like that."

  Cat shook his head, and his dark eyes flashed. Bonnie noticed for the first time that Cat's pupils seemed to have a faint blue glow to them. Lynx didn't even have that much color, she thought ruefully. His pupils seemed to be the same color as his yellow eyes. "It is an even trade," Cat said. "We have many children to feed."

  "And they can't live on chocolate, can they?" Bonnie certainly wished that she could. She also wished she could grow it, but hadn't bothered to try because cacao required a more tropical climate.

  "No," he admitted. "But I believe they would like to."

  All three nodded vigorously in agreement.

  "Well, they seem to be thriving," Bonnie observed. "I don't think I've ever seen cuter kids in my life."

  Cat seemed very pleased to hear that. "They resemble their mother, do they not?" he said proudly.

  "Well, no, Cat," Bonnie said truthfully. "They look just like you."

  "But they have their mother's eyes," he protested.

  Bonnie shook her head. She had noticed before that Jack's eyes had a slight reddish glow to the pupil, but the kids didn't have even that. "I honestly can't see any resemblance to Jack at all," she said. "You're sure she's their mother?"

  Smiling devilishly, Cat assured Bonnie that she was. Then he cocked his head slightly. "Your child will re­semble her father, too, I believe."

  "Aw, don't tell me that!" Bonnie groaned as the full meaning of his words sunk in. "I wanted it to be a surprise!"

  "I may be wrong," Cat said, hedging just a bit. Bonnie had learned from Jack that Zetithians were prone to occasional insights that usually turned out to be true. Cat himself had seen who was responsible for the destruction of their planet in just such a vi­sion, and no one had ever doubted him. Of course, since the culprits had been Nedwuts, no one was too surprised, since they were generally regarded as the premier badasses of the galaxy. There were plenty of other species around who caused just about as much trouble, but the Nedwuts had managed to acquire the reputation for being the worst.

  "I doubt it," Bonnie grumbled, knowing that Cat's assessment was probably correct. "Vladen was dying to tell me himself. You're sure it's a girl?"

  "I believe it is," Cat said meekly.

  "Not that I /wine/having a girl, you understand, but if she looks like Sylor... well, I'm sure she'll turn out okay."

  Cat grinned. "She will be beautiful."

  "Thanks, Cat," Bonnie said graciously. "But as long as she's healthy, it doesn't matter what she looks like. I'll love her anyway."

  Cocking his head to one side, he peered at Bonnie curiously. "Lynxsander's children would be more to your liking?"

  Bonnie stared back at him blankly. She had no clue as to where he'd gotten that idea, but it was hitting a little too close to the mark for comfort. "I—I don't think he has any intention of ever having any children," she stammered, hoping that Lynx wasn't overhearing their conversation. "At least, not with me." Glancing over at Lynx, Bonnie noted that he had gone to get the crate of eggs out of the cart where she had hidden them. When he returned, he gave no hint of
having heard anything, but with ears like that, she couldn't be sure.

  With a skeptical lift of his exotic brow, Cat seemed to disagree but said nothing more on the subject.

  Salan came by later on with some cheese to trade— Bonnie had saved some eggs for her too—and she no­ticed Lynx right away. The dairyman's daughter was a pretty girl with long auburn hair and a knowing smile, and, being half Terran and half Davordian, had the most luminous blue eyes Bonnie had ever seen. If the way she was looking at Lynx with those fabulous eyes was any indication, it was apparent that she'd gotten the scoop on Zetithians from someone.

  "So, he's your new hand?" Salan asked, not taking her eyes off Lynx.

  "Yes," Bonnie replied. "He's pretty good help, too. Not very chatty, though."

  Salan nodded absently, still gazing at him. "I like the quiet type."

  "He's quieter than most, Salan, but—who knows?— he might actually talk to you. " Since Lynx had always managed to disappear whenever Salan came to the house, this was doubtful, but he couldn't run away this time—and for all Bonnie knew, the two of them might have been destined to be together forever. "Hey, Lynx," Bonnie called out, "Salan gets those last two eggs."

  Lynx got the eggs without a word, then took the box of cheese and stowed it in the cart. He didn't say one word.

  "So, Lynx, I hear you're from the same planet as Cat and Leo?" Salan prompted him. Bonnie smiled to herself as she noted the change in the milkmaid's posture—a change that drew attention to her two largest attributes.

  Lynx nodded warily.

  "I've always thought they were just about the hand­somest men I've ever seen," she gushed. "But that was before I met you! I must say, I like the shorter hair—and your black-tipped eyebrows! They're so... exotic. "

  Salan was openly flirting with him, and Bonnie held her breath waiting for his response.

  "You are Davordian," Lynx said. "I have seen your kind before."

  "Oh, really?" Salan purred, taking a step closer to him. "And where was that?"

  "There were many in the brothels of Paemay," Lynx replied, taking a step backward. "Their blue eyes were greatly admired."

  Bonnie bit back a laugh while Salan, completely missing the insult, went on to ask, "And did you admire them?"

  "No," he said. "I did not frequent the brothels."

  "Well, then," she said with a sly smile, "how did you know they were there?"

  "Other men told me of them," Lynx replied, "and I have seen them lying drunk in the street." In a bitter voice, he went on to add, "Some were slaves as I was and were used as concubines."

  That got through to her, leaving her momentarily speechless. Blushing scarlet, Salan turned away from him, muttering, "Nothinglike Cat or Leo!" To Bonnie, she merely said, "Thanks for the eggs," and stalked off.

  Well, thought Bonnie, Salan couldn't say no one had warned her.

  After they closed up shop, Bonnie went round to the receiving office and picked up the engine parts for the speeder from Wilisan.

  Wilisan was a Terran of Middle Eastern descent, and if there was any man, aside from Lynx, living on Terra Minor that might have inspired Bonnie to fall in love, it would have been him. He had a long, lean body, flashing black eyes with dramatically up­swept brows, dark skin, and lots of wavy black hair. He was a feast for female eyes, almost as much as the Zetithians were, and, better yet, he was single. Salan had tried catching his eye more than once, but he'd never seemed interested.

  "Finally going to fix that old clunker, eh?" Wilisan asked Bonnie with a smirk.

  "No," she replied firmly. "Lynx is going to do that."

  Wilisan looked at Lynx with interest. "Ah! You can fix it?"

  Lynx nodded. "It only needs replacement parts and"—with a glance in Bonnie's direction, he added— "better maintenance."

  "Not my fault," Bonnie muttered under her breath.

  Wilisan exchanged a look with Lynx that plainly stated what he thought of female mechanics—which wasn't a whole lot, apparently.

  "You two should get along just fine," Bonnie said dryly. "I can see you have a lot in common."

  Completely missing the barb, Wilisan nodded at Lynx, saying smoothly, "I have an old speeder I would like to rebuild. Perhaps you could look at it?"

  Lynx glanced at Bonnie as though seeking her per­mission, which surprised her a bit. "Uh, sounds like a great idea to me," she said, hoping it was the right thing to say. "He's been working on all of my equipment, and it's running much better than it ever did before."

  "I will pay you well," Wilisan said.

  Lynx nodded, and Bonnie thought he looked... bet­ter... for some reason. Then she realized that it was the prospect of doing work for someone other than herself that had brightened his countenance. He was almost smiling.

  Not wanting to be one to deny him what he clearly saw as a treat, she said, "Sure, take a day off whenever you like, Lynx. I can manage without you."

  Wilisan seemed very eager to discuss this with Lynx, so Bonnie left them to make arrangements while she car­ried the box of parts out to the cart. "Wish he could get that excited about working for me," she said to Kipper as he trotted alongside her. "But I guess that's too much to hope for."

  Kipper could sense that Bonnie was unhappy, but why that was escaped him, so he just wagged his tail, wishing for perhaps the millionth time that Tisana was around to translate for him.

  The return trip wasn't quite as silent as it had been that morning, but Bonnie was the one doing most of the talk­ing. As she saw it, Lynx was a captive audience, and she should have taken advantage of that fact on their previ­ous hike—though he could have always turned around and gone home then. This time, he pretty much had to go in the same direction as Bonnie did, whether he liked it or not. She pumped him for information about Zetith, figuring that was a more neutral topic than what had happened to him since the war. As it turned out, he had been in the same unit as Cat and Leo, but the similarities ended there.

  "Cark was good with all weapons," he said, giving Bonnie the distinct impression that Lynx didn't consider himself to be as adept. "But Leccarian, whom you call Leo, was the best with a blade."

  "Well, you seemed awfully glad to see them," Bonnie observed. "Were you good friends?"

  "We were in the same unit," he said, his expression becoming wary.

  Which had to count for something, but his attitude now was quite different from the way he'd acted when he'd first seen Cat. At the time, he'd seemed overjoyed, but now he was reticent again—almost as if meeting up with his former comrades reminded him of things he would have preferred to forget.

  "All soldiers, huh?" Bonnie said with a nod. "I guess facing life and death together makes you closer."

  "I was not a soldier," Lynx muttered, suddenly ap­pearing fascinated with the ground in front of his feet.

  "Oh, then what did you do?"

  "I did not... fight," he said uncomfortably.

  "I didn't ask what you didn Ydo," she said pointedly. "I asked you what you did. "

  "I... helped."

  "Helped with what?" The way he was acting, Bonnie thought he might have been the one responsible for mak­ing sure everyone had shoelaces—which was certainly important, though not particularly heroic.

  Head down and still not looking Bonnie in the eyes, he replied, "I maintained the weapons and the other machines."

  While this might have explained why he'd been able to tear apart a speeder engine, it didn't explain why he'd feel ashamed about it. "And I'm sure you were very good at it, too," she said promptly.

  Lynx's response to that was a noncommittal shrug.

  "You couldn't a/7 be warriors," Bonnie said reason­ably. "I mean, somebody has to work in the support positions! I've always felt that the cooks were the most important people in anyone's army, because if the soldiers don't eat, it's pretty hard for them to keep on fighting! And with a weapon that doesn't work, you can't do much of anything either."

  Lynx still didn't seem convinced, so
Bonnie kept talking. "I think I'd much prefer to have a good me­chanic helping me on the farm; a soldier wouldn't be much use when it came to keeping my equipment up and running. Wilisan seemed to think it was pretty neat that you could fix a speeder too."

  He made no comment about that, either, though to Bonnie's eyes it was perfectly obvious that he didn't give a damn what she thought.

  "And a guy who can deliver a baby is a wonderful thing for a pregnant woman to have around—not that someone else couldn't help me out, but experience in such situations is always comforting." Bonnie was rap­idly running out of appreciative things to say. "Guess you'd rather I just shut up, huh?"

  Another shrug was all she received in reply. Bonnie was trying to be admiring, but he obviously wasn't buying it. "Lynx," she said, trying her best to smile, "all I'm asking for is a little conversation! It's fairly obvious you don't like me, and I know you'd rather be anywhere else but here, but couldn't you at least pretend once in a while? I'm not the enemy!"