How could the arrogant woman possibly assume that Coryn ever enjoyed what she forced him to do? Had she not been so appalling, Evella would have seemed utterly ridiculous!
Abruptly she turned around to go to the closed cupboard where she stored her stash of torture tools and favourite medications. Coryn plopped himself on the nearest chair, and discarded his now-empty water glass on the floor, allowing his mind to lose itself in the pounding in his temples. He was barely aware of Evella when she returned, carrying the tiny injector that she used for administering drugs, and a metal circle with a chain attached to it.
She cackled at him, and he opened his eyes enough to watch her. He groaned as she held up the metal circle. Up until now he had not been subjected to the slave-collar; the wrist and ankle restraints had been deemed enough, whenever he had been transferred from place to place.
“Mogron said that I had to keep you corralled,” Evil Evella said with a smirk. “How about collared? Surely he can't object to that!”
**
Fortunately for Coryn, Keeper Ariane at the Elite Women's Pleasure House flew into a rage when she saw the collar and the leash.
“We here at Elite Women's Pleasure House do not do slave-collars!” she shouted to the bodyguards who dropped Coryn off. “Hand me the key to that thing! Surely that absurd woman gave you the key!”
It was true about the collars—except when it came to the client rooms. What the Elite women did inside those was their business, alone, and most of them, Ariane knew, loved the collars!
The more senior of the bodyguards shrugged, and produced a small metal key from one of his pockets.
“You know that we have nothing to do with this nonsense, Ariane,” he said. “We just do what the Madame tells us to do.”
“Sure, I know that, but a slave-collar!” Ariane said. “It's such a primitive restraint! And completely unnecessary! Obviously this piece of property has been equipped with a tracer; otherwise he would have got away in that flit he stole! And the wrist and ankle restraints are much more secure, and easier to use than some silly mechanical collar!”
She inserted the key into the lock on the collar while Coryn stood very still. His neck was badly chafed from Evella having tugged at the chain whenever such tugging made the least bit of sense.
“Yeah, well; the Madame will have her fun,” the bodyguard responded to Ariane's words. “I don't necessarily care for it any more than you do.”
He took the collar and the key which she shoved at him, and handed them to his companion for safekeeping, before climbing back into the pilot's seat of the flyer. Ariane, meanwhile, clucked at the state of Coryn's neck, and led him indoors where she salved it with a fragrant ointment.
Coryn, before he fell asleep from sheer exhaustion on a cot in the dormitory, tried to make sense out of the latest events. A person was almost inclined to believe that his escape attempt had earned him some respect, not just from the Elite Mogron, but also from the local workers, such as the bodyguards and the Keeper Ariane.
**
Dyron was seated on the outdoor bench when Coryn, at last, had enough energy to drag himself out of bed, and outside the building.
“The irony of the whole endeavour,” Coryn told the dark-skinned man, “is that if the escapee had been you, and you had been alone, most likely you would have got away. Apparently I have been marked with a body tracer which the Neotsarian Authorities and Enforcers can pinpoint, with the result that I never had a chance of getting away. Those things are not cheap, so probably neither you nor your compatriots have been so equipped, being mere regular slaves, and not bait for a Kordean-trained Witch.”
“Always assuming that I could have flown the flit, and found a safe hiding place, once I had made it over the cat-infested woods,” Dyron responded drily.
Coryn flashed him a quick grin.
“Always assuming,” he agreed. “And now I'm puzzling over the fact that instead of allowing Evil Evella to punish me for the attempted escape, the Elite who seems to be in charge of the Sarah-baiting is saying that he was impressed by my audacity in trying to escape. As a seasoned Agent, I'm not likely to take such words at face value, and preen. No, I smell a rat, but where and for what reason—well, I don't get it.”
Dyron sat very still for a few moments, making no response. When he finally spoke, his voice was even lower than it usually was, and he stared at the trees beyond the fence with an intense concentration.
“I have been contacted by an Elder of my people,” were the soft words that Coryn caught. “He's here with some of your people. They are in disguise. Do you think that it's possible that they have been detected?”
A cold hand fell into place around Coryn's heart and squeezed it.
“I don't know,” he managed to answer. “But warn him, the first chance you get. We mustn't take anything for granted.”
**
“There's a possibility that our presence has been detected,” Seer Jon said to the conspirators who had squashed themselves into the sleeping room that he shared with the Greencat and Kami.
It was late in the evening, the second show of the day was well over, and the Troupe members had extricated themselves from the locals who were keen to pick their brains, obviously with the idea of putting together something similar to their act, once the off-planet entertainers had left. The Seer had told a few people their fortunes while waiting for the others, but, after a while, begging exhaustion, had left for the Inn with the Greencat. Lindy had assumed that he was going to be doing some mental work, probably with the Greencat's aid. Apparently she had been correct.
“How...? Surely that's not possible! We have been so careful!” she objected.
“It's just a possibility,” the Seer said. “But the word from your colleague in the trap is to not take anything—anything at all—for granted. My contact thinks that the Witch-bait suspects that the Elites have got hold of some kind of advanced technology which allows them to do things that even The Agency does not know that they can. For one thing, he has been marked with a body-tracer which was used to foil an escape attempt that he made.”
“Ouch!” Lindy said. “A body-tracer! Those things are supposed to be limited to the upper echelons of the Armed Forces, and The Agency.... Wait a minute; this proves that Marcues is a damned turncoat!”
“And you're an Agent, right?” Shellion said. “Couldn't this Marcues, if he's a turncoat, have sent your description to whichever Elite is in charge of their operation?”
Lindy stared at him.
“Shit, shit, and double shit!” she snarled. “He could have passed it on if he knew that I was involved in this business. But it's not being done through The Agency, so how would he know anything about it?”
“Graeme Forshie and his buddy were in Trahea while you were there,” Sunny said, sounding nothing like her usual simple self. “Didn't you come to Trahea to find out how he and Hart Monroe were doing? Didn't you help to interview them?”
“Yes and yes! If Graeme's another damn turncoat....”
Lindy groaned.
“This is a genie that we can't put back in the bottle!” she said. “At least they don't know that you're with us, Sunny!”
“If they're halfway smart, they ought to have figured it out,” Leon pointed out. “Lindy's simple sister; about the same size as the wanted Witch, though, granted, not anything like her in appearance.”
“And the goddamned Elites know about body-sculpting. Their women favour the same artiste on Space Station RES who sculpted Sunny!”
“So why have they left us alone, so far?” Dini asked. “You'd have thought that they'd have come down on us the moment they identified Lindy as an Agent!”
“Maybe they're waiting to see what we'll do,” Shellion suggested. “They likely figure that there's no hurry. They can tighten the noose around us any time they want to.”
“And that means that we have to act before they realize that we know that they know,” finished Lindy. “Thinking caps on ton
ight, everyone. We have to figure out our next step.”
**
They had to find out where Coryn and Guru Johannes' people were kept, Lindy thought to herself as she began to undress in the room that she shared with Sunny. The girl was at the sink (which in this inexpensive Inn was in the room—the toilet was a tiny separate room, and the showers were down the hall, shared by the whole floor), brushing her teeth.
Lindy put back on the shirt that she had just removed.
“Wait a moment to lock the door, Sunny,” she said, heading out. “I thought of something that might be useful. I'll have a word with the Guru, and come right back.”
She knocked on the door of the room where the meeting had taken place a short while ago.
“Seer Jon,” she said when Kami let her in, “could the Greencat be persuaded to do some night time scouting? With her abilities, she could probably find the place where the prisoners are being kept. If we knew their location, we could plan to act quickly—like tomorrow night maybe.”
Male laughter burst out around the room. Shellion, Lew, and Leon were still there, all of them obviously plotting with the Guru and Kami. The Greencat was nowhere to be seen.
“We were taking bets on how long it would take for one of you women to think of that!” Shellion said. “And who would be the one who would show up at our door with the idea!
“Kami won, on both counts! He said that it would be you, and that you'd be here in minutes!”
“So you have already sent her off?” Lindy asked the Seer, after a quick scan of the room to make sure that the Cat was not there.
“She offered to do it,” Seer Jon replied with a smile. “She thought of it before any of the rest of us did. Do not underestimate that creature!”
“I think Sarah would have thought of asking the animal to help us,” Lindy said. “If Sarah was being Sarah. The trouble with this Sunny business is that it seems that acting in character shaves a few IQ points from Sarah's total.”
She sighed.
“I hope that doesn't become a problem when we need her to act.”
“I don't think there's any need to worry, Lindy,” Kami said. “When it's time for her to come out of that protective cocoon, she's going to be a firebrand! Don't forget that one of the people badly in need of rescue is her beloved Coryn!”
**
The sleek, beautiful animal silently loped down streets empty of pedestrians. She kept to the shadows wherever that was possible, aware that should the officialdom of Volgoid Prime City realize that there was a large cat-animal running free down their streets in the middle of the night, they would not hesitate to use a killing weapon to put an end to it.
She had a good idea as to where she was going. She had received the directional instructions from the Guru who had been in touch with the young men from his world. She could read the Agent's mind to some extent, enough to know that he was, at least at the moment, in the same location as the people from the Guru's planet. She wanted to judge the distance between the Inn where the Troupe was staying, and the location which the Team would have to access. Plus, she wanted to get a feel for the lay of the land at that end.
She kept mentally alert for any large creatures that might be about, especially humans. She recognized that she was probably in an environment more hostile to her than any in which she had ever been before. The forests of her native planet were friendly, in comparison to this city. There she had no predators or enemies; her species was at the top of the food chain; the blind humanoids who had tried to sacrifice Sarah to their deities had known better than to tangle with four-footed creatures armed with claws, teeth, eyesight, and ESP. The law-enforcing bipeds of Volgoid Prime City, however, had guns that spit fire and death from a distance, or, at least, produced the tranquillizing effect which they called stunning. The people whom the Guru had befriended were averse to spouting death, and stunned their enemies only, but the powerful of Volgoid showed little of such restraint as far as she could tell.
There were, in fact, surprisingly few city dwellers of any kind, outdoors. Yes, it was the middle of the night; but Volgoid Prime was a big city. Elsewhere in her travels among the human worlds and space stations, there had been something that the humans called “night-life”. People had spilled into the streets from restaurants, bars, theatres, and other entertainment venues, to make their way to other establishments, or, in the later hours, home. That had been true even on the worlds on which the Troupe had alighted during their effort to establish their identities as Yukoidian Travelling Troupe, if not to the same extent as on the Confederation worlds.
What a dull place Volgoid Prime City was! The only place to find amusements seemed to be the Seaport area where the Troupe had established its local headquarters, and even there the shows (catering to creatures with night-sight very limited by cat standards) had to be done during the daylight hours because there was no such thing as evening lighting, except for a few garish streetlights!
No wonder the Elites who had the opportunity to travel, headed for Confederation Space more often than not! And no wonder they had dubious tastes when it came to amusing themselves! They must have been bored out of their minds most of the time that they spent at home!
But that was a never-mind, for now. The Greencat had to keep track of how far she had come from the Inn. She was already convinced that the Team would have to use public transit to make their way to where she was heading. A big cat could travel fast on her four legs powered by strong muscles, but an assorted crew of bipeds could never make that kind of time, especially when it was necessary to try to stay in the shadows. Not even big Leon or Sandy could have done it (and they would have had a tough time remaining reasonably invisible to the enforcers of curfews), never mind little Sunny-Sarah. Thus, the Cat kept an eye out for train tracks; those criss-crossed the city. The Troupe members ought to be able to ride the trains to the nearest station to the slaves' location, and continue on foot from there.
The Greencat thought that she must be getting close to her destination when suddenly her mind was assaulted by the chaotic imaginings of other cat-minds, animals less mentally evolved than she was. She probed them, coming to the conclusion that the beasts were large, almost as large as she was, and that there were at least a dozen of them. These must be the cats that the Guru's planet-mates had spoken of! They were hungry, and angry because they had been kept ill-fed for a long time, and confined to a sliver of treed real estate!
The Greencat was appalled at the stupidity of the animals' keepers; to keep large predators underfed on purpose, and confined to small quarters, seemed foolish beyond belief!
“Should they be released, the first creatures that they'll turn on are the tormentors,” she mused, shaking her large cat-head. “If the fools think that they can sic them on the slaves—well, maybe some of the slaves will come to a bad end, too, but the sadistic caretakers certainly will!”
Would the feral cats allow her to join them, and study the facility they were guarding?
She came to the edge of the wood, to the high fence which surrounded it. Could she scale it? Was it safe to scale it? Or was there a gate which she could somehow tease open with her ESP?
She began to walk around the perimeter, examining the fence with her dark-adapted eyes. It did not take long for some of the beasts inside to take note of what she was doing, and start following her progress on their side of the fence. She probed the mind of the one nearest to the fence; the experience was oddly akin to the first time she had encountered Sarah, when the girl had unexpectedly showed up on the Cat's home world—yet there were huge differences. This creature, too, was ESP sensitive, although in a much less cerebral and more sensation-oriented way than Sarah had been. But, just as Sarah had acknowledged a superior psychic entity when she had run into one, this animal recognized the Greencat for what she was.
The Greencat probed the minds of the felines while she searched for an entrance into the enclosure. They were not house cats, that was certain. But ne
ither were they necessarily aggressive predators, though they had been turned into something like, through mistreatment. The Guru had explained that Sarah, during her last mental foray into the prison which the cats guarded, had instructed the Guru's countrymen to try to make friends with them, and the young men had followed her instructions, succeeding to some extent. Sarah, apparently, had managed to get quite comfortable with the animals; this was not surprising, considering her psychic strength when she had the use of her Stone. Coryn, however, had had little success befriending the animals, according to the Guru's main informant, Dyron. Dyron had attributed the difficulty to the great amount of stress Coryn had been under, in the situation into which he had been thrust.
The Greencat could sense that the prisoners' efforts had borne some fruit useful to her. The animals' attitudes were not nearly as threatening towards the people they were supposed to be penning in as she had been afraid that they might have been. The angry feelings were more precisely directed towards the actual tormentors.
She broached the notion of the Elites with the one with whom she was in touch, not sure if the beast had any idea of who she meant. To her surprise, the creature had a distinct notion of the self-appointed rulers of the land, and its attitude to them was even more wrought than the one directed towards the animal-handlers. Apparently, the feral cats were smart enough to understand who was responsible for their plight! How was that possible? The Greencat probed the other beast's mind for a semblance of an answer to the question.
“We were once forest creatures,” the cat communicated in response. “We lived in vast, treed expanses which covered much of this world. We were hunters of fast-running prey.”
The Greencat received an image of deer-like animals, and of rabbits, and other small herbivores.
“We would have been embarrassed to kill and eat these pitiful bipeds, no matter how well-muscled some members of the species might be. There is no glory in felling animals that cannot lead you on a chase. But these bipeds cut down many of the forests, and they trapped us, to make use of us, as if we were things rather than sentient beings. They have been breeding us in pens, trying to turn us into domesticated animals, good for nothing except the purposes that they have decreed.
Revenge of the Catspaw Page 25
