Hope was frightened. Someone must have broken in. She had no weapon in her house, but armed herself with a large kitchen knife and quietly crept upstairs. She peaked into the small bedroom and was shocked by what she saw and heard. Her pet cat, Rasputin was seated at her desk speaking into what appeared to be a small transmitter.
“This is Xilback Four calling Xilback Controller” she heard him say, “Come in, please. This is an emergency message. Come in, please. My ship has crashed on earth and cannot be repaired. Request immediate retrieval.” Rasputin kept repeating these words, apparently receiving no response.
Hope stood there silently for a minute, then silently crept back downstairs and tiptoed out of the house. Sitting in her car, she found she still had the kitchen knife with her. She placed it on the front seat, looked at her watch, and realized she had to rush to get back to her office on time.
Back at her desk, Hope found it impossible to work. She could not get out of her mind the image of Rasputin speaking that strange message repeatedly into a transmitter. Had she really seen it, or had it been a dream?
This was no small matter to Hope. She loved Rasputin. She had grown up in a house with a cat, her parents favoring them as pets. When she had left her family home and moved to Washington to work at the State Department, she had thought about acquiring a pet cat for herself. Only concern that she might not be able to provide adequate care for a pet if she went away to the beach during the summer weekends had dissuaded her.
Actually, it is not as though Hope adopted Rasputin. Rather, the cat had adopted her. Their meeting occurred one morning, about six months after Hope had moved in. She was rushing on her way to the State Department, opened her front door, and was amazed to see the top step occupied by a sorry looking black and orange striped cat. It looked the worse for wear much. Its fur was dirty and in clumps, a scab covering a sore on its back. Hope had a tender heart, and she had been conditioned by her parents to treat house cats very much like unfortunate people.
As might have been predicted, she scooped the animal up in her arms, carried it to her kitchen, and attempted to clean it up, using warm water and a paper towel. The cat surprisingly submitted to her ministrations and even purred. It was getting quite late, so Hope gave the cat a saucer of milk, left it drinking happily and rushed off to the State Department.
Hope had one of her frequently frustrating days at the office and returned home exhausted. Her only thought was to kick off her shoes, take a hot bath and go to bed. Going upstairs to her bedroom, she was amazed to see the cat curled up, sleeping happily on her bed. While she had been gone, the cat had somehow managed to clean itself up. The orange and black fur looked quite clean, and the sore on its back had disappeared.
The cat awakened, lifted its head and stared at her. It looked much like any other stray cat one might glimpse on the street except for one thing; its eyes were a brilliant green, with flecks of gold. It purred, stood up, and Hope realized that although it was no longer than the average domestic cat, it was surprisingly slender and stood some fifty percent taller.
“I wonder what species it is?” she asked herself. “It’s quite an unusual one. I will have to look it up.”
Hope saw further than the cat was obviously a male. This posed the question of what she should call him. All of the cat names she had carried in her mind were for female cats.
“What about George?” she asked him. “Do you like it?” The cat made no response. He exhibited a similar indifference to “Harry” and “Dexter.” Possibly he preferred more traditional CAT NAMES. “Is ‘Boots’ and better? Or ‘Whiskers’?”
Still no response. After some minutes, during which the cat stared at her, she thought about less common names he might prefer. Because of her studies in East European history, it was natural that her mind turned to that area for possible cat names. “Stalin” or “Lenin” might cause her problems with State Department Security. Then she had a brilliant idea. “How do you like ’Rasputin?’ she asked.
The cat meowed. His bright green eyes bore into hers. He seemed to blink one eye roguishly. “All right,” she said, “Rasputin it is.”
And so it was. Rasputin quickly became her best friend. No matter how tired she was from the office, each day when she arrived home she felt happy about the warm welcome she would receive from the cat. Sometimes, he would be sleeping quietly on her bed. More often, she would see him standing on the desk in her upstairs bedroom, peering through the window, looking for to get out of her car and come into the house.
Almost always, Rasputin would be waiting for her on the floor. As soon as she approached, he would leap up in one bound, grab her around the neck with his two front paws, and hug her warmly. Accompanying the leap would be a loud purring from the cat, which would last several minutes. Even if she attempted to put him on to the floor and feed him, he would resist until he obtained what he regarded as the proper amount of affection.
In the face of such heart-felt love and admiration, Hope began to spend most evenings at home with the cat, both of them sitting on the living room sofa, sharing a warm blanket, and watching television. Rufus would watch most programs with some interest, but surprisingly gave the greatest attention to network news shows.
Now, this feeling of comradeship with the cat seemed to be threatened. What she had seen indicated that Rasputin was not an ordinary cat, most probably not a cat at all. Cats, as far as is known, do not converse in English or speak into transmitters. How could she be friendly with that, whatever that was?
Returning from her office that night, Hope’s usual feeling of joyous expectation over the warm welcome from Rasputin was missing. She did not see him peering out from the bedroom window. Climbing the stair to her bedroom, she felt a sense of dread over what she might encounter. She entered the bedroom and, to her relief, found Rasputin curled up on her bed comfortably sleeping.
The cat opened his eyes, stared at her for a moment, then jumped off the bed and raced to her feet. Then he leaped straight up, grabbed her around the neck, and began purring loudly. How could she resist? She hugged him. In response, he nestled his nose in her cheek and began licking her with his tongue.
Clearly, Hope thought, she had imagined that bizarre scene that afternoon. Cats certainly do not speak English, certainly do not use transmitters. She fed him as usual and that night, the two of them enjoyed watching news programs on TV, curled up on the sofa and sharing the same blanket.
The next morning, Hope went off to the office and life at home resumed its normal course. Hope thought no more of what she now regarded as a fantasy until the day her credit card bill arrived. Before paying it, she always examined the items closely, insuring that nothing had been mistakenly charged to her account.
One source of billings that was always there was for the home delivery of pizzas. It was a dish she very much enjoyed, although to avoid undue consumption of junk food, Hope usually rationed herself to just one home delivery a week. Very often, she would find herself billed for five or six deliveries a month, but Hope ascribed the discrepancy to poor memory on her part.
This month, the bill listed six home deliveries. As she sat at her office desk, trying to recall exactly how many times she had had pizza last month, her eyes came across an entry which startled her, a $1,264 charge for a book from a London antique book dealer. This had to be a mistake. The book was entitled “Egyptian Scientific Monographs, Volume II.” Hope had not the least interest in Egyptian Scientific Monographs and had certainly not ordered it from the London dealer.
Out of curiosity, Hope looked up the book dealer on her computer. She not only found the dealer listed, but also a brief description of the book. It was published in 1808, with volume II devoted almost entirely to a discussion of an Eleventh Century manuscript on ancient Egyptian science. A footnote asserted that there were only three known copies of the work believed to be in existence and that the item in question was no longer available for purchase.
Hope straightaway called her
credit card company and informed them that she had definitely not purchased the book and would deduct the $1,264 from the payment she was sending them. So good was her credit standing, that the credit card company had no wish to lose her as a customer. The charge for the book was removed from her account; Hope did not know or care how the obvious miss-billing had occurred.
A month or so later, Hope was at the office when she suddenly remembered it was her father’s birthday on that Friday. Whenever it was possible, she had always tried to be home with her parents to help celebrate their respective birthdays. This year, the press of business at the office would not permit her to visit home, but she had purchased a large umbrella as a birthday present for her father, since he loved to walk and frequently came home soaked from being caught out on a walk by a rainstorm. The umbrella, extremely light and easy to carry, would be something he could use to keep himself from getting drenched in a downpour.
Hope wanted very much to have the umbrella reach her father by his birthday. The only solution was to drive home, pick up the umbrella, which had already been wrapped, and mail the package at the post office on her way back to the office. Taking an early lunch, she went down to the State Department garage, got into her car and drove home.
Hope entered her house; her thoughts concentrated on locating the umbrella and getting it to the post office to mail within the time left of her lunch hour, Suddenly, she became aware of a voice emanating from her office upstairs. Softly she climbed the stairs, taking pains to make no noise. There was no mistake. The refrain was familiar: “This is Xilback Four calling Xilback Controller. Come in Please. This is an emergency message. My ship has crashed on earth and cannot be repaired. Request immediate retrieval.”
Peeking into the room, Hope confirmed what she suspected. There could be no possible mistake. Rasputin was seated at her desk, repeating the phrase over and over again. She did not know what to do. What to say? Should she confront him or pass it off as a big joke? Uncertain as to the proper response, she retreated downstairs as silently as she had mounted the stairs, left the house, returned to her car, and drove back to the State Department.
Needless to say, she was unable to do any work. As soon as the wall clock indicated the formal end of the business day, she left her office and drove home. Her house, when she entered it, seemed perfectly normal. She climbed the stairs and entered her bedroom. Rasputin was sleeping quietly on her bed. Everything appeared perfectly normal. It would be so easy to close her mind to what she had witnessed only a few hours before.
As she stood there, deep in thought, Rasputin opened his eyes, jumped off the bed and raced to her feet and leaped up, grabbing her neck with his paws as he had done so many nights before. He began to purr and to lick her face. This time, Hope’s reaction was different. Grabbing him roughly, she pushed him hard down onto the bed. The cat looked at her with his brilliant green eyes, and his purring trailed off. They stared at each other silently.
“All right,” she said her voice cold and steely, “Do you have something you wish to tell me?”
The cat didn’t answer. Hope rarely lost her temper, but it was a mistake to rile her. On those few occasions it occurred, the recipients of her wrath learned how ruthless she could be.
“Rasputin or whatever your name is. I know you can understand every word I say and that you speak perfect English. I came home at lunch time and heard you talking into your transmitter. Should I address you as ‘Xilback Four?’” she added sarcastically.
The cat’s green eyes peered into hers. Then he said, “I’m glad I no longer have to play this charade. I really didn’t enjoy deceiving you. I have come to regard you as a close friend, and I am certainly grateful for your taking me into your home. Xilback Four,” he added, “Is not my name but my call signal to Xilback Control. My real name would be far too difficult for you to pronounce. I come from a planet at the far side of the Galaxy and from a civilization far in advance of that on earth.”
“All right,” Hope said, and then paused. It was hard to believe what the cat was saying. Still, if it was true, it would explain what she had seen and heard. “What do I call you?” she asked.
“Please continue to call me Rasputin. I like the name. I have studied your history and culture, and I know all about the Russian peasant mystic Rasputin and his strong political influence in the court of the last Russian Tsar, Nicolas II.”
Hope pondered these words. “Then please tell me what you are doing her?” she asked skeptically.
“As you probably heard me tell Xilback Control,” the cat answered, “That my ship crashed on earth. Earth is the section of the Galaxy I am responsible for, and I have to visit the area frequently to make certain things are not getting out of hand. Those nuclear explosions you have been conducting have alarmed my people. Unfortunately, my ship’s propulsion system failed and I was unable to land the craft properly. When I determined it was too badly damaged for me to repair, I was obliged to destroy it.”
“Why destroy it?” Hope inquired.
“Come now,” Rasputin answered. You’re intelligent enough to have figured out the reason. We certainly don’t want earthlings to study the space craft and possible construct one. Not with your low levels of intelligence and propensity to experiment with dangerous weapons. Fortunately,” the cat went on, “I had been thoroughly briefed on what I should do if my space ship crashed here. I also took off all my clothing and destroyed the garments at the same time.”
“Why go around without clothes?” Hope asked, puzzled. “Of course, your fur is attractive, but I would think that after wearing clothing, you’d be embarrassed walking around Washington naked.”
It does take some time to get used to,” the cat admitted. But I couldn’t take the risk of being identified as an extraterrestrial. If my true nature were to become known, I would either be encaged in a laboratory and studied and possibly be dissected by your scientists or lynched by religious fanatics claiming I could not be intelligent because I am not made in the image of your God. Fortunately, I look enough like one of your domestic cats to be able to pass as one.”
Hope could not argue with the cat’s logic. “Well then,” she asked, “How did you end up on my front step?”
“That’s simple,” he responded. “The telepathic powers of my species are rather limited, certainly when compared to some of the other intelligent species in the Galaxy. However, they were sufficient for me to observe while passing your house that some individual living there liked cats and was hoping to adopt one. The solution to my dilemma was there before me. I lay down on your step to wait until you opened the door and found me. It was a virtual certainty that you would take me in and make me comfortable. To increase my chances of success, I messed up my fur to appear forlorn, even putting an imitation scab on my back.”
Hope sat back and thought over all that Rasputin had said. She could, of course, simply throw him out, but that didn’t seem charitable. Moreover, he had become a friend. Now that she could speak with him, he would be an even better companion. “All right,” she said. “What do you propose we do?”
“I can appreciate your reluctance,” the cat said softly, “And if you wish me to leave, I will do so quietly. However, I would very much like to stay with you. I have no earth coins to pay for the added cost, but I will try to make myself even more useful to you than I was in the past.”
“Useful?” she asked dubiously.
“You know the sump pump you have in the basemen?” he explained. “Remember you found one day that there was water in the basement, and the pump didn’t work. You planned to call a repairman when you returned home from work. I repaired it while you were away, and led you downstairs to the basement when you returned home. It was difficult persuading you to follow me, and I couldn’t speak to you without revealing I was not really an earth cat.”
“So that’s why the sump pump worked that evening,” Hope said. “I wondered how it had somehow repaired itself.” She found herself automatically pe
tting Rasputin and stopped, abruptly. To cover her embarrassment she asked, “Were you responsible for the extra pizzas I was charged for on my credit card bill?”
“I was,” he said, looking ashamed and hanging his head. “It was easy for me as I knew your credit card number. I tried to limit my orders and hoped you wouldn’t notice them.”
“But why?”
“It’s that dry cat food you’ve been feeding me. It’s edible but no more than that. How would you like to eat that stuff and nothing else? I used to watch you eating the pizza each week with my mouth watering, but I couldn’t ask you for a piece.”
Hope had to admit Rasputin’s justification was reasonable. “All right,” she said. “From now on, when I order a pizza I will share it with you.”
“But what about that rare Egyptian book I was charged for? Were you somehow involved in that? What on earth would you want with an antique book on that subject?”
Rasputin looked more ashamed. “It was a rare case of an error in judgment on my part. I browse the internet daily using your computer while you’re at the office. When I came across that ad by the London dealer, I was curious about the Egyptian book he described and looked it up further. It turned out that the old Egyptian manuscript it reprinted was copied from a still earlier source and that it contained mathematical calculations I thought might be useful in increasing the strength of my transmitter. I was under the impression that it had been sent to me on approval and that I could quickly copy the calculations and return the book to the dealer. You can imagine my chagrin when I found he had already billed you for it.”
“I couldn’t leave it lying around the house for you to find it, and I couldn’t bring myself to destroy such a valuable volume. Therefore, I donated it in your name to one of the university libraries, using some of the most technical provisions in your tax code to maximize its value to you as a charitable deduction. It shouldn’t end up costing you very much, and I can more than re-coop your net loss if you allow mw to assist you in filling out your income tax returns this year. I have examined your last year’s return and have found several ways I can reduce the amount you have to pay.”
STRANGE SCIENCE FICTION AND FANTASY OMNIBUS Page 9
