London Wild

by V. E. Shearman

  Kitty turned her head so it was facing towards February, but kept it close to George’s chest. ‘I don’t remember using the word, not once you told me not to. I’ll try to be more careful.’

  George let her go, but she held on as if fearing that if she were to release him, she might not see him again. This was a nice problem to have to sort out at two in the morning. Could he trust a wild cat in the house overnight? What if he asked her to go—would she turn nasty and attack? She might not have any powered weapons, but her claws did look quite sharp and quite effective. And what about Kitty? Could he tell the wild cat to leave and yet convince Kitty to stay? Somehow he didn’t think so; either they would both leave or they were both going to stay. He just couldn’t bring himself to tell Kitty that she was going to have to go, especially after he had so wanted to see her again, and especially after Stanley had revealed his plan to resettle both George and Kitty at his home on Mars. Would there be room for a wild cat? How would she eat on Mars? George wouldn’t want anything to do with her if she was going to prey on the local population. It was really too late at night to be thinking about such things.

  He didn’t really want to leave this room and allow a wild cat to move about his house unwatched. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to watch her all night, and she might well get nasty about it if he even tried.

  He glanced down at his one-time pet and smiled reassuringly at her. ‘Well, I’m glad to see you, Kitty, but couldn’t you have called before coming round tonight? Let me know you were on your way?’

  ‘Same reason, Professor,’ February told him simply. ‘I think you can be trusted, but members of my race have tried trusting yours in the past, and usually we regret it. Had we called, would your house have been filled with soldiers awaiting our arrival? Let’s face it, Professor; whatever your feelings about Kitty, to you I’m just a wild Herbaht and you’d probably rather see the back of me. It’s very unlikely you’d be willing to trust me any more than I trust you. To put it another way, I feel we need to get to know each other before we can really begin to trust.’

  ‘I guess that’s true,’ George replied slowly, ‘though if I knew Kitty was coming it’s unlikely I’d have called in the army. But knowing you were with her would most likely have caused complications. Not that there’s anything stopping me from calling the soldiers in now, except that I wouldn’t want Kitty to get hurt.’

  ‘Oh that’s sweet,’ Kitty uttered gently.

  ‘And I do have hostages now, if it came to it,’ February warned him. ‘Three, if the scents in the house are anything to go by. Yours is very strong. You are obviously the owner of this house, but there are two other scents mingling lightly with it, a male and a female. The male scent is similar to yours, but distinct enough for me to tell them apart.’

  ‘Stanley, my brother, is on leave from the Moon, and when he returns he’ll be heading to Mars. There are a few more details, but it’s two o’clock in the morning and I’d rather not go into details while I’m so tired.’

  ‘And the woman?’ February asked quizzically.

  ‘Stan’s wife, Maureen,’ Kitty offered, still talking softly.

  February seemed to accept this. She reached over and poured herself a glass of fruit juice from a convenient bottle. ‘Can I fix you something, Professor?’

  ‘Er, no thanks,’ George replied cautiously. Part of him was thinking that this wild cat had one hell of a cheek, pouring herself a drink in his house without his say-so. Another part of him was chastising himself for not having offered to make drinks for his guests. She was a wild cat. He owed her nothing, but then she had probably saved Kitty’s life, so perhaps he did owe her that.

  February drank a mouthful of the fruit juice she had poured and then made a contorted face. She turned the bottle round to see the label clearly; it was orange juice. From the expression on her face, George assumed that either the orange juice had to be off (though it had seemed all right earlier that evening when he had had some himself), or perhaps this wild cat just didn’t like oranges.

  ‘Slim moves into Sou’nd in force tomorrow,’ February told him, breaking his line of thought. ‘It was Kitty who pointed out to me that there could be only one reason why a man as intelligent as Slim was supposed to be was advertising this attack a good thirty hours before it was launched. I won’t go too far into details, but the upshot is that Kitty and I have been forced to leave my home and we’re intending to make our way north. So you only need to put up with us for one night.’

  ‘I wanted to see you before I left,’ Kitty whispered.

  ‘You’re willing to risk telling me you’re going north, then?’ George said, surprised.

  ‘The north is a large area,’ February told him. ‘It includes Scotland, and if it comes to that, it could even include Norway, Sweden, Iceland, and many other places. It’s not like I’ve given you our address. I couldn’t, anyway; I don’t know where we’re going yet.’

  ‘It’s a long time since anyone of your race was in the north,’ George commented. ‘In fact, I can’t remember any time in recorded history that your people have moved to the north.’

  ‘Then it’s time we did,’ February said simply. ‘If they don’t expect to find us in the north, maybe we can live a relatively safe and peaceful life.’

  George nodded. ‘Have you ever thought about somewhere off-planet? Somewhere like Mars, perhaps?’

  ‘We’d never get past the security gates,’ February commented. ‘Are you inviting us to accompany your brother back to his new work place?’

  ‘Well…’ George tried to get his mind around the next few sentences before saying anything. Then finally he said, ‘Stanley came here wanting to take Kitty and myself with him. I intend to go. I know Kitty will be welcome. I’ll admit I’m not sure there is even room for you, and if there is I’m not sure Stanley or his wife would be willing to accept you.’

  ‘I find it unlikely,’ February commented, ‘but if Kitty wishes to go with you, I’ll not stop her.’

  ‘I’d like to go with him,’ Kitty sighed. She held George even tighter, her head turned to face February, and continued, ‘but I don’t want to leave you.’

  ‘Then maybe I can talk to this Stanley and see if he’d be willing to consider taking me along. I intend to leave London anyway, to get away before the war in Sou’nd reaches the borders of the Capital. I don’t know how you intend to get us past the spaceport’s security gates and sniffer dogs, but at least the Elite Guard won’t be there.’

  George yawned uncontrollably as he listened. Now that the initial adrenaline rush was fading, his tiredness was taking over. ‘It’ll be good having you with us, because you can help keep the others of your race off of our backs.’

  ‘I won’t betray my people any more than I expect you’d betray yours. However, Kitty is my friend and Kitty is your friend. She is the catalyst that will keep us together, at least for now,’ February told him. ‘I give you my word that unless you turn on me, I won’t harm any member of your family.’

  George yawned again. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said as soon as he was able, ‘I wasn’t sleeping well before you came, and I think with you in the house it’s unlikely I’m going to be getting any sleep, but my body wants to try.’

  February nodded her understanding. ‘It’s late; it’s nearly half past now. I’m used to being up this late when I’ve been out hunting, but I usually have to recover in the mornings. I think you should probably go back to bed, Professor. You’ll still be alive come the morning, never fear. I won’t hurt you.’

  George yawned again. He felt his ears pop as he tried to contain the pressure. ‘Before I go, can I ask you how you got in? I mean, that’s supposed to be a very secure lock. There were soldiers from the Elite Guard here earlier, and I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t have been able to get past the lock, short of breaking the door down.’

  ‘I’m afraid that’s a trade secret, Professor,’ February told him. George’s yawns were getting contagious and she copied him. �
�What did the soldiers want?’

  George shrugged and replied, ‘They were looking for Kitty, wanted to take her to the Cattery with them.’

  ‘Really?’ February seemed quite surprised as she said, ‘It’s not time for them to collect overdue pets yet. I wonder if that was what they really wanted.’

  ‘I think so,’ George explained. ‘You see, the Cattery isn’t big enough to cope with the constant influx of so many cats, er, excuse me, Herbaht. They seem to be dreading the last day of the grace period when they expect to be buried up to their eyebrows in new admittances. It does sort of make sense, when you think about it.’

  ‘Those poor creatures,’ February commented. She seemed shocked, and she spoke with feeling. ‘The soldiers will probably have to execute most of them the second they arrive because they won’t have the room for all the new ones. If they haven’t already, they’ll probably be killing all the current inmates to make at least some room. It must be hell in there at the moment. Not that it’s exactly ever been a place I’ve wanted to go and see firsthand.’ She turned her attention to Kitty. ‘Be glad George had the foresight to put you out on the street. You at least had a chance there, and as fate would have it you met me. If you were in the Cattery you’d probably be suffering through hell right now, if they hadn’t already finished you. I guess I hadn’t thought about overcrowding. I’d just assumed that they’d made accommodation for all of the pets. I should have known better.’

  ‘Well,’ said George wearily, looking as if he might fall asleep where he stood, ‘Kitty’s room is still available if one of you wishes to use it. The other will have to make do with the couch, though, I’m afraid.’

  ‘I’ll use the couch,’ Kitty said quite insistently. ‘It’s a little wet at the moment, I’m afraid, but I can use a blanket to cover the damp parts and make the most of it.’ She finally let go of George with all but one arm and turned to face February. ‘It’s the least I could do after all the kindness you’ve shown me.’

  ‘I’ll use the couch,’ February replied; she too seemed adamant. ‘You’ve spent enough time on my couch. Besides, it is your room. The bed won’t seem as strange to you as it would to me. And I want to keep abreast of the news, especially the Sou’nd stuff, and the newspaper is down here.’

  George nodded and yawned and then turned, saying, ‘I really think I need to get some sleep.’ He turned back to Kitty, who released her last arm from him, and told her, ‘I wish I could be sure of your friend.’

  February grinned. ‘I’m not sure I trust you either, Professor. If it’s any consolation, I’m not too happy about being in a house filled with herd, any of whom could turn on me at any moment. We have to try to trust each other, Professor.’

  ‘I guess so,’ George replied tiredly. He was too tired to think any more about it, and he left the living room. Kitty followed with one arm wrapped around his midriff. She would have to let go when he started to climb the stairs, as they wouldn’t be wide enough for them to walk up together.

  ‘I’d like to hear more about this Mars idea,’ February added as he was leaving. ‘Perhaps we can discuss it more tomorrow.’

  George didn’t reply. He was too tired. He made his way back to the top of the stairs with Kitty close behind. She left him with a peck on the cheek and entered the bathroom; she would probably want to wash off her makeup and possibly dry off before she turned in for the night. ‘See you tomorrow, master,’ she whispered to him. ‘I’m glad to be back.’

  ‘Glad you’re back too,’ George replied. He returned to his bed, pulled back the covers, and almost fell across it.

  George spent the next hour full of mixed emotions: fear that the wild cat would come up the stairs to get him, and thoughts that now Kitty was back, he was again complete. Then he wondered what would happen in the morning if either Stanley or Maureen were to find February asleep on the couch. Would they call the law? Would she attack them before she was fully awake? Would he be awoken by screams from downstairs? Hopefully if they did find her, she would still be disguised as human, so they’d be more interested in who she was than what she was. It was gone four o’clock before he finally got any sleep.

  20

  The Great Cat Killer

  There were twenty standard-weight tanks, the backbone of his force. These were the vehicles that would do most of the dirty work once they actually reached Sou’nd. Then there were ten lightweight scout tanks. When he was promised thirty tanks for his attack force, he had assumed that had meant thirty standard tanks, and he had been unhappy when a full third of them turned out to be little more than lightly armored scout tanks. It had seemed as if he had lost a third of his force before even starting. They might be faster and more maneuverable than the standard tank, but they didn’t have the firepower or the armor, and for this battle Charles really couldn’t see that he had much of a need for them. If there was an occasion in this battle where he might need a scout tank, then fine, supply him with one or two instead of replacing a full third of his strength with them. He had scattered them through the column so that each part of his strike force would have at least one with them. Starting with the first tank, they had been placed so that every third tank was a scout. The only exception to this was that the second scout in the column was fifth in line rather than fourth. This was because Charles had chosen the tank fourth in line as his own, and he had no intention of commanding the battle from a scout.

  Behind the tanks in no real order were about fifty support vehicles: thirty troop carriers, including ten for civilians; one dedicated to communication; five designed for holding prisoners; three meat wagons; three catering trucks, two that carried spares for the tanks; and even a tow truck in case a tank or another vehicle had to be retrieved. All of these vehicles had been armored for battle, though the thickness of their armor was nothing like that of the standard tanks.

  As dawn arrived, the weather showed no sign of relenting. Fortunately, the lightning that had appeared at somewhere around two that morning had since moved on and had shown no sign of returning.

  Already the air strikes had started, softening up Sou’nd before the main convoy would get there. They would only have time to hit the town twice, but the six aircraft involved could destroy an awful lot of the city in those two strikes.

  Captain Charles ‘Slim’ Dorris wasn’t feeling very comfortable. He had joined the Elite Guard to guard cats in the Cattery, not to be a hero. When he joined up he hadn’t any idea that one day he was going to have to command an assault against the wild cats on what he considered their home turf. They would all be armed, and they would all be trying to kill him. It was going to be a bad day. The tactics were wrong, for a start—attacking an area before securing the one they had! No wonder he was hearing rumors that the population of London seemed to be trying to escape the trouble, regardless of the assurances that the government had been putting out. He didn’t consider himself a coward. No, a coward wouldn’t have signed up in the first place, and a coward would have found any number of excuses not to go along. Had he actually been a civilian, very few would have blamed him for having second thoughts. No, he wasn’t a coward, but neither was he willing to be cannon fodder.

  He took a couple of pills to try and calm the butterflies and the constant need to visit a lavatory that seemed to be permeating his very being. He couldn’t help wondering how many of the great leaders might have felt the same way as he did before they too went into battle. Well, this was his first real battle since he had joined up. Every loss his command suffered would be his fault. If fate should see him fight more battles in the future, maybe, God forbid, he would get used to the feelings.

  The rain did nothing to change his mood either. He was getting soaked, but he needed to be seen by the men for the purposes of morale, if nothing else. He couldn’t help thinking that had he been one of the soldiers, the last thing he’d want would be to be under the command of a civilian, even if that civilian was a hero of the populace. But the Colonel had insisted in his f
inal good-luck call less than an hour ago.

  ‘Especially the civilians,’ the Colonel had told him, ‘make sure you get yourself seen by the civilians. Remember, you are one of them!’

  So there he was, out in the rain inspecting the troops, or, more accurately, because he wasn’t supposed to be a soldier. He checked in with the officers of each unit whilst making sure he was visible to them. To emphasize the effect, he would stop by one or two of the soldiers in the front ranks of each unit and ask them a few questions about themselves and whether or not they were excited to be involved in today’s battle. The range of answers weren’t all that hopeful. Many were excited to be part of a historic moment, but they were also scared. They were happy that a man as famous as the great Slim Dorris was leading them, but as he had suspected, they wished he had had some military training, and they wished they could be sure that they could trust his judgment. The advert on the newspaper had done nothing for the morale of the men. It seemed to be clear to everyone that the cats were going to be expecting them. Also, the presence of other civilians caused many to feel that friendly fire was more likely. Many of the soldiers were even worried that they would end up babysitting the civilians rather than getting involved in any real action.

  The rain is going to be a problem, he thought as he left the last unit he had inspected. Everyone’s visual acuity was low in this weather. He could barely see what was happening a hundred feet across the green. The thought that the cats would be suffering from the same restrictions helped his mood little.

  Visually at least, the tanks would be all right, as they didn’t rely only on sight but also on a fairly complicated system of radar and a direct link to a global positioning satellite that would both tell them exactly where they were and also what might be in the way.

  Six o’clock edged closer, and though he couldn’t see the check-in desk clearly when he was near the soldiers, he knew roughly where to find it on the green and headed in that direction. If it was important that the civilians see him to increase their morale, then he’d better get on with being seen.