by Lil Gibson
"Everything will be alright, my cream, I won't let anything happen to you and when I see you again, I will hold you and pet you until you tire of the attention," he whispered into her mind like a gentle breeze, reassuring her as nothing else could.
"I love you, Zorroc," she admitted softly.
"I know, Catarina."
"We have her on screen," Prolinc advised. "She is eight nids due east from our position. Tell her to get ready for a fast transhift, Zorroc. Sycor, prepare to trans on my signal," he ordered, calculating quickly.
"On your signal, commander," Sycor replied.
"Zorroc, they've come for me," Cat messaged, calm now that the end grew near. Her time had definitely arrived, one way or the other.
"Stall them." His short, ordered response.
"Thank you for coming at last, I need to use the facilities; with all this excitement, my bladder is positively bursting. I'm sure that, as a guest, you wouldn't want me to be uncomfortable. Could someone please show me the way to the lavatory?" she asked in her most blatant southern drawl, all the while batting her lashes, climbing to her feet and brushing herself off. The Dargons started shuffling their feet in confusion; then one stepped forward and motioned her to follow. It had worked. He showed her outside and grunted toward a bush, so much for the facilities but maybe she would be easier to transhift this way. The Dargons began to trickle out of an adjacent cave and move slowly toward her, obviously prepared to watch while she did her business.
"Guys, I can appreciate your position, but I can't relieve myself with an audience. I cross my heart and hope to die, I will not run away, please give me some privacy," she pleaded sweetly.
They started snorting, panting and drooling as they advanced slowly toward her and began closing in. "Zorroc, I am being surrounded; please hurry."
She hoped he’d heard her, as she began backing away with her hands out in front of her in a manner to placate as well as stop them from closing in behind her. A wall of four Gattonians appeared in front her, arms raised to fire on the Dargons at point blank range while she vanished. She arrived on the trans-pad and promptly fell to her knees and then on to her butt in a muddled, uncoordinated heap. She liked it much better when Zorroc held her, she decided, looking around as she gained her footing. Sycor stood alone behind the console; she started toward him just as the Gattonian party returned looking victorious and reeking of Dargon guts.
Recognizing Zorroc instantly, she charged him like a torpedo. He caught her in a fierce hug that told her more about her narrow escape than she wanted to know. He swung her up and started toward the panel before stopping, turning and humbly thanking the crew for their support and Cat's life. Four mouths dropped open as Zorroc proceeded out of the trans-pad room.
He began speaking non-stop, unable to help himself. He had her.
"We were unable to simply transhift you up, as we had planned, the Dargons were closing in on you too swiftly. We needed a wall of sorts to separate you.
"Ugh, the stench is almost unbearable, we both need to get clean; then I will lie down with you and hold you until you drift off to sleep." Although at that moment, he feared he would never let her go again. She remained quiet, too quiet. He glanced down to find her fast asleep. He smiled. His mate had had another very busy day.
Chapter Ten
"Where are we?" Cat wanted to know. Dee sat perched on the side of the platmat looking concerned but unflappable and of course voluptuous, gorgeous, and fresh as a morning breeze. Cat figured her own appearance would be an exact antithesis of her friend's. Ugh. Then she remembered what had happened which set off a barrage of questions that began firing from her lips. The first being, "Where is Zorroc? I know he was with me, right? And, how can you be here? Aren't you supposed to be on Zeba II? How long have I been asleep? Am I back on Zeba II? Did they drug me, or something? Sheesh, I'm confused," she admitted, finally out of charges.
Dee thought she had good reason to be confused and commenced explanations. "We're on the small ship that came to your rescue, they call it a Pod. We're approaching the mother ship that was sent to intercept us." Dee had watched her friend sleep for the last ten minutes, not wanting to wake her from mind healing rest. Zorroc had assured her that Cat had not been harmed but Dee wanted confirmation from Cat's own lips. "Zorroc is assisting with the landing arrangements," she continued, "and sent me to wake you so you could dress and be ready to meet the crew of the Miramid."
Cat looked under the covers and colored noticeably. Dee hid a grin. She wrapped herself in the blanket, hopped off the mat, and proceeded to the clothes cove asking Dee to keep talking while she dressed. Dee had to admit that she seemed absolutely 'Cat normal'.
"I was one of the crew members chosen to extricate you from the Dargons but at the time you only had eyes for your cat man," Dee complied sounding genuinely amused. "You probably wouldn't have recognized me anyway. Damn, covered with Dargon guts twice in one day, I stayed in the clean-room for forty minutes.
"But we sustained no injuries, Cat; it was a clean operation, unless you count the innards of the Dargons, that is. I'm sure they're not too happy at this point in time."
Cat emerged from dressing with emerald eyes flashing and moist, "Thank you for coming for me, I couldn't ask for better friend; but what were those Gattonians thinking to allow you to participate in something so dangerous. The Dargons seemed excessively fond of females but whether for food or sport, remains unknown, and thanks to you and the others I’ll never find out. Jesus Dee, if I'd been there any longer I don't think I'd be here any longer," she shuddered at the admission. Cat filled Dee in on the surreal particulars.
"You clapped, you actually clapped?" Dee groaned; she didn't know whether to laugh or pull out her hair at Cat's blatant audacity. She had a habit of recklessly charging in when she should be standing back and weighing her options. "Did it ever occur to you that he might have taken offense? What if clapping constituted some form of scathing insult, requiring death? Sweetheart, we're not in Kansas anymore," she concluded in her best Dorothy impersonation.
"I'm not sure it wasn't some form of 'scathing insult'," Cat replied. "If you had arrived one minute later, I would have either been dead or wishing I were," she confessed with unusual seriousness. Then she remembered the most bizarre part of her adventure. "Guess what his name was Dee, just guess," she squealed in obvious delight. At Dee's blank look, Cat couldn't contain herself. "Gorn, he called himself, Gorn, can you believe it? I thought he was kidding and almost laughed but caught myself in time. These guys take themselves more seriously than Gattonians."
Dee groaned again at how that must have been interpreted by her captures. Cat had been very lucky.
In one of their rare relaxed conversations, Prolinc had confided to Dee that one of the nicknames he had for Cat was Pinball. Dee had gotten so used to Cat's modus operandi that she hadn't understood the significance of the name, now however, seeing Cat transform in typical Cat fashion, she understood how she must come across to the very deliberate, controlled Gattonians. Cat shone like an inextinguishable light in the night, she couldn't be beaten and she invariably found something humorous or positive in every situation, her latest near death experience obviously counted as no different. Like a ping-pong ball on an ocean, she may become temporarily submerged by a wave but inevitably would pop back up to the top.
Dee wondered, once again if Zorroc had any idea of the precious gift that was Cat…holy cow patties, what would Zorroc make of Cat's episode with the Dargons when he learned the details? Well, she wasn't going to be the one to tell him. She might tell Prolinc; maybe she could get him to crack a smile. Felines were supposed to be curious, playful and impulsive like Spock, but just thinking of Prolinc and Spock in the same admixture constituted an oxymoron. Gattonians had deliberate, controlled, somber, almost brooding temperaments except they didn't show that much emotion; and Prolinc proved the worst of the pack. The closest he'd come to a smile occurred when they had their almost interlude in the meadow. De
e’d spotted a telling grin of fierce satisfaction and a definite gleam in his vivid, green eyes for a brief moment before the attack.
Since arriving back on the Pod, however, he hadn't given her a glance either in interest or with his usual scowl. He had no doubt come to his senses and wouldn’t bother to pursue her now that the mother ship prepared to intercept them. His obligation toward her had been fulfilled. At least they hadn't consummated their disunion. Then she'd be feeling even stupider than she did now. Oh well, nothing like a new man to help you get over the old one, maybe she'd check out Rosik. The crew quietly bandied about tales of his prowess in battle and in bed. He was said to be charismatic and sinfully sensual even for a Gattonian; and irresistible to any female he wanted. Maybe he’d help her forget her very un-charismatic cat man. When Cat inquired about the Miramid, Dee launched into all she had heard, enthusiastically.
"Rosik is first in command and he's supposedly impossible for the female gender to resist. He lost his family in the first clash with the Dargons and since then, has been cutting a very wide swath through the female population on several galaxies.
"With Angel mated to Carpov and you with Zorroc; maybe I'll stand a chance with him." Dee hadn't yet broached the subject of the mate mark she’d detected on Cat's neck but when in a conversation with Angel through COM relay, she'd told her all about the mating ritual and irreversible ramifications. Divorce did not exist for Gattonians, like everything else; they took their vows very seriously. Angel had explained that lifemating consisted of three parts. 'The Granting' in which the male asks the female to mate and she accepts. 'The Claiming' where the male enters the female after preparing her; and 'The Taking' where the union is consummated by a mating bite or tattoo to show possession and a bound union. If Cat, by far the most forthcoming of the three; had lifemated with Zorroc voluntarily it would have shot out of her mouth with the speed of light. Dee looked briefly uncomfortable, focusing on Cat's neck, before finishing her dissertation on Rosik.
Cat wondered exactly how much she had missed with her two-hour nap. She’d thought Dee and Prolinc had bonded together like two active atoms reacting explosively until smashed together to form an inseparable element. The sparks that the two had been shooting last time she’d seen them together burned hotter and much friendlier than the former encounters she had witnessed. What happened to change that? Dee acted every bit as unreadable as Angel; why couldn't Cat do that? You'd think that growing up with two enigmatic glacier geishas would have given her similar skills. Why did her every thought have to be plastered on her features like yesterday's news? And even worse lay in the fact that Zorroc could pluck it out of her head if any doubt existed.
The panel whooshed open and Cat noticed Prolinc's countenance seemed even more inscrutable than normal, as if his body had shown up without his mind. He ignored Dee like she wasn't in the room and addressed her.
"We have landed and are ready to disembark; you will follow me." Prolinc ordered distractedly. How had the Dargons found them, he wondered yet again, and why had they seemed intent on capturing the females? Cat had told Zorroc they looked for one particular female, what could that mean? From the corner of his eye he noted Dee's slightly mutinous, confused expression. She did not understand, that, although he had interest and plans for her, his primary allegiance remained to Zorroc, Gattonia…and eventually to Nadia. He sighed; life seldom proved convenient.
As Dee and Cat moved as one toward the exit, Cat straightened to her full height and showered him with a factious glower. She decided she wasn’t happy with these Gattonians. Why did he ignore Dee? Where was Zorroc? "Where is Zorroc, he owes me a long soft rub and a lot of holding."
Prolinc shot a look at Dee as if to ascertain whether this passed for common earth banter for women, but Dee just looked at him guilelessly, like inquiring minds want to know. He got the feeling they were laughing at him but could not determine the jest. He had yet to understand the female of this species.
"Zorroc has duties and obligations to attend to now that we have arrived, I will be your escort off the Pod and to your new quarters." His attention eerily unreadable. "Zorroc sent this, he wishes you to wear it."
She leaned down to inspect the band with interest. Four inches wide and made of three intertwined metals each with its own texture and color; it looked as exotic and complex as Zorroc, himself. She recognized the crest; it matched the ring that he wore on the middle finger of his left hand.
When Cat reached to take it from Prolinc he grabbed her hand, slid it above her elbow, and tightened it flush with her skin. It gave with the movement of her bicep but remained fastened securely.
"How does it come off?" she asked uneasily. She began to examine it more carefully to determine its purpose and workings. Was it some sort of slave I.D. band or maybe a concubine shackle designating ownership? Dark feelings clouded her mind and blotted her vision. If it were some sort of marriage band, Zorroc would have presented it himself and asked her to marry him. Wouldn't he?
Her fears were confirmed as Prolinc announced, "It is permanently fastened. Now you will follow me, if you please." It was not a request and Dee seemed to dislike the implication of the band as much as Cat. She stepped in front of Cat and took up a relaxed fighting stance that Prolinc didn't seem to recognize.
"Come on, Lincky, don't I get one too?" An irresistible compunction assailed Dee to strip Prolinc of his thick veneer of control and unveil the beast within.
Prolinc looked thoroughly non-pulsed as he informed her that hers would be along later and reiterated that they were expected at the exit momentarily.
"Sorry sour-puss," Dee corrected, "but the only place we're going is home, I know how the Pod operates and how you Gattonians operate and frankly we choose the Pod, so go on to your wonderful mother ship and let us fly away home." Dismiss her as if she were a part of the air would he? She would just see about that.
Did Dee actually expect it to be that easy, Cat wondered; but looking at the determined expression on her face told her she was begging for a fight and confident she’d get one. Cat thought it would prove an educational experience for both of them and stepped back to prepare for the show. Cat knew the Gattonians wouldn't lift a hand toward a weaker female species because of their superior size, strength and control so she wasn't nervous about who would best the other. She grinned; let the games begin. As if Dee had read her mind, she stepped forward and told Prolinc to move aside. He froze in Gattonian control awaiting her finger in his chest; instead, he got a knee to the groin, a karate chop to either side of his neck and a double fisted blow between his shoulders on his way down.
It ended in less than five seconds. Dee turned with a satisfied smirk and said, "Um, just pussycats. Let's see how much mischief we can incite. Most of the crew will have already exited the ship and no one will know our plans, so act natural and let's head toward the navigation center." Dee sauntered out the exit and headed down the hall. Cat followed, wondering just how far they’d get before being reeled back in. Even though she knew what Dee proposed would ultimately prove futile; Cat thought that they’d scored a small victory. Sometimes minor battles proved the most satisfying. They reached the navigation center to discover it deserted. Jesus, Cat thought, were they really going to try this? What would they do if they succeeded?
Just as the entrance panel slid shut, it opened up again. Zorroc appeared with three of his crew; Sycor looked as if laughter was about to burst from his eyes while the other two projected abject wariness, as if ready to protect their private parts at all cost. Zorroc looked furious. Oops, Cat thought. The three flanked Zorroc and circled Cat and Dee.
"What are your intentions," Zorroc grated roughly, lasering them both with an amber fired glare.
"What does it look like,” Cat responded, “we're going home. Dee’s a pilot and has been observing the flight procedures needed to navigate us out of here and we're out of here," she dared. It was childish but she wanted to strike back at Zorroc for not coming for her himsel
f—that and his imperious self-control and cold-hearted dedication to duty, of which she was one. Apparently a minor one.
"Take her," Zorroc pointed at Dee, "put her in retention, and secure her. Leave us."
Cat jumped in front of Dee and confronted Zorroc. "Just what do you intend to do with us, because where Dee goes, I go; and I will tell you right now that no one lays a hand on either one of us. I am sick unto death of being ordered about, manhandled and in general treated like a cat toy you can pull out and play with when it suits you then ignored out of paw. And just what is the significance of this band?" She held out her arm for his inspection.
Zorroc, Sycor, and the other two crewmembers froze like inert objects. Prolinc, arriving behind them, had no such movement problems; he stormed around the inert objects, skirted Cat, who knew better than to get between the two of them and watched as Prolinc advanced on Dee. Dee looked like a ferocious kitten. "You will accompany me now," he ordered softly. Cat noted that, for once, his feelings were clear; he was livid. She had second thoughts about interfering, would he hurt Dee, after all? If Dee had wanted a reaction, she had certainly hit the jackpot.
Dee beamed a drop dead, radiant smile at Prolinc, sauntered up to him, patted his cheek and said, "What took you so long, sweetheart, lead the way." She turned to Cat, winked, and then glided sensually out of the room. All male eyes riveted to Dee's behind as she left. Cat thought them pathetically easy to read. Things were definitely looking up until she noticed Zorroc's gaze had focused unerringly on her.
"Prepare to disembark immediately," he spat at the remaining crew, his gaze still locked with hers. The males shot through the exit and secured the panel behind them while Zorroc studied Cat. Her heart began a staccato beat as she tried to discern his next move. She didn’t have long to wait. He moved closer and gently touched the back his fingers to her cheek, captured a wayward curl and fondled it slowly before tucking it behind her ear. His behavior confounded her, she’d expected anger, demands, explanations; almost anything except what he now allowed her to see. He looked defeated. How had that happened, didn't he know she'd never had serious intentions of leaving him? She had simply been supporting Dee's momentary "Star Wars" fantasy; she knew they'd never let them depart with one of their Pods. Was this some new way to manipulate her? If so, it was working like a charm. What did he expect of her?
