The Sarrans Box Set

Chapter 5-1

Chapter 5

“I had been told that the training procedure with cats was difficult.

It’s not. Mine had me trained in two days.”

—Bill Dana

Sarran Calendar: Cycle 9435.B113

Earth Calendar: July 23rd

Jonal entered their quarters from the door that led from Brightstar’s common corridor. The quarters’ lights were dimmed and it took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust.

“You look amused.” Tonas smiled, leaning against the wall that led to the galley. Jonal took a breath and drew in the distinct aroma of Transian tea, a stimulant that became all too familiar during the war.

“And you look tired. Were you up all night again, staring at Anya? I thought you would sleep after we loved, My Light.”

“She kept flailing her arms with agitation, moving all over the bed.” Tonas paused and greeted Jonal with a kiss. “I laid my body over hers so she wouldn’t hurt herself. As long as I held her she was quiet. I might have slept some. I expected you earlier.

“Was there a problem on the Bridge?” Tonas asked.

“Everything is routine. I turned the shift to Saxon. He and Lunas haven’t found a fem in this group. They don’t seem disturbed, but I’m going to try and insure their command of the next expedition. They might have a better opportunity to meet prospective fems with a treaty in place. They volunteered to alternate over the next few shifts, to give us time with Anya.” Jonal sighed.

“That was decent of them,” said Tonas.

“I told them we appreciated their honor and courtesy. We have been very, very fortunate in our crew. We have asked much and they have always given more.”

“Don’t forget, you trained them well.”

“It was always a joint effort. We work together well, but no work will be done if you are too exhausted to lift your head from the pillow. Go back to bed, lie down beside her, if she wakes, she won’t be alone. I’ll join you soon, I’m afraid I need the cleansing unit.”

“I don’t want her to wake alone,” said Tonas aloud. “She was always alone, before, except for the little furry Beast. I can’t understand a society that claims to love offspring; yet puts those without clan into an institution.”

Jonal said, “I believe that is what causes her dark dreams. Even the idea of an institution isn’t as bad as giving the young to women who have no maternal instinct, to raise. Could these stupid humans not see that women who want no partner and join an organization dedicated to celibacy would not be a good fit to teach the young?” Tonas looked down and grabbed at Jonal’s arm. “You are hurt.”

::Don’t scold, my love.:: Jonal laughed and spoke aloud, “That’s where I was, with the Beast. He drew blood this time. I need another cleansing.” Jonal ruefully held up his arm for inspection.

Tonas’s brows furrowed as he looked at the scratch. “It’s not deep, but you should cleanse and swab it. Those little claws are razor sharp. The Beast is a compact but has his defenses at the ready.” Tonas smiled, the smile reaching the bright green eyes, “What did you do to the poor Beast that he felt the need to abuse your magnificent form?” he asked archly.

Jonal said, “I just went down to the hold to feed and play with him again. I swear he is swifter, stealthier, and has better reflexes than a Snarkcat. I grabbed at the bounce globe and he clawed my arm. He immediately sheathed his claws, but drew blood. I believe he was under the illusion that his reflexes were better than mine. I got the globe, but paid with a scratch. He looked at me as if he couldn’t figure out how it happened,” Jonal chuckled at the memory.

“Didn’t Mark say the claws were to be trimmed?”

“And who do you suppose is going to attempt that, the cargo crew?” Jonal asked. “Hardened Warriors all, veterans of the Zyptz War and countless smaller skirmishes, yet they quake in fear of a 20 lo Beast.”

“He is fierce when he hisses and his coat stands on end. Makes him look bigger than 20 los, but I believe that’s the objective, looking bigger, some kind of survival mechanism. Is it true that the crew want little to do with him?”

“The cargo crew will feed him the kibble. They will even play with the bounce ball and others of his toys but they balk at the stuff in the tin. There is also the stink of his piss in the container. We also need to find a better substance to contain his skat and absorb the odor. They loathe changing that pan. That stuff the corpsman gave Flagen is useless. It turns liquid piss into a piss clump. I can’t see the benefit there. I think that’s going to remain one of our chores. Cargo Chief Kassan said he absolutely refuses to change it again. We have to find a better way.” Jonal shook his head and smiled. “Maybe I’ll set one of the idle science officers on it. Medical’s borne the brunt this mission.”

“Notation: Private Log, Jonal—Have science look into odor and skat management.”

Tonas’s face contorted with laughter. “And who will that get that duty? The Alliance science advisors may be Warriors, but their attitude is mutinous when assigned research unbecoming to their ideas of importance. Making Beast piss and scat less obnoxious fits the book definition of unbecoming. Tack on ‘Waste of valuable resources and Diversion of discretionary funds,’ both Codex offenses, if I recall correctly. You fill in the blanks, we’ve jumped onto this path often,” Tonas finished with a flourish.

“But Tonas, my love, we have jumped but we have never landed. After ten cycles our records are still free of Codex Findings. Codex Hearings, I’ll grant you many, but not findings. Rimmed the edge, but saved by the letters.” Jonal’s eyes sparkled as he recalled how very close to the line they strayed.

“PTA, Primary Trade Application. Those three letters saved our sacs many times.” Tonas smiled in return.

Jonal’s inner demons quelled, a relaxed and happy Tonas had migrated to the partner’s desk and set down the mug of Transian. “Why don’t you dump the tea and we’ll share some Asta. Thanks to Saxon and Lunas we’re free from duty for a few shifts,” Jonal asked.

“As Mark would say, I’m okay with that,” Tonas replied. “You win, we ask science. Who was the last one to go on report?”

“I’ll ask the chief. He’d probably be delighted to make a recommendation. He can do more with spit and tape than science and engineering can with molecular re-assemblers. He can tell me which one of the splitters has been giving him grief.” Jonal crossed over to the credenza and poured.

“You have half of Tigger’s coat on your uniform. It looks like he danced over you, not the bounce globe. Did he attempt to sneak out of containment again? He has tried to slip through my legs at least once a rising. Then he makes that horrible yowling noise when he’s thwarted. I feel an occasional dart of a weak probe into my mind just before he starts. I’ll stake credits that he knows she is up here. You know, as a small predator, he might do with fresh cooked meat. It might make him feel more settled.”

“The only thing that’s going to settle the Beast is Anya. Maybe I can find some more information in the data we uploaded on feeding and ridding it of scat. I had the information put on library crystals. The organizational system is clumsy, but navigable. We uploaded the Library of Congress and links from their data net to other sources. They still lack a common tongue, but the translation chips are effective,” Jonal said. “The data gathered is in printed format with illustrated text. From what I’ve been able to research, cats are clean, intelligent animals armed with quick reflexes and stealth. They are extremely flexible and finely muscled, to say nothing of beautiful. It says much for Anya that she prefers this pet over others the Earthen people keep.” Jonal sipped half of the Asta and passed the small tumbler across to Tonas.

::I think Sarran warriors have a lot in common with these cats,:: Tonas said. He arched his brow. ::Beautiful, but deadly when crossed, loyal, intelligent, did I say beautiful?:: Tonas moved forward and embraced Jonal, his lips and tongue across the shell of his ear. ::You taste of Asta and Jonal, my favorite flavors. Thank you for last night, Firefly.::

::You know I enjoyed it as much, if not more than you, My Light,:: answered Jonal. Then aloud, “Why don’t you finish the Asta and go lie down beside Anya? Saxon and Lunas have Brightstar covered; I think we are a bit superfluous. I’m going to see to this scratch and then to the cleanser. I could use a bit more sleep myself and a lot more Tonas. I’ll join you when I’m done.”

* * * *

Anya slowly woke, fully conscious this time. She heard no codes in the halls, smelled no antiseptic. She was on her back, propped by dozens of silken pillows rather than a standard hospital rising bed.

Still afraid to open her eyes, Anya’s hand clenched reflexively on the bed covers. What was this? Her long slender fingers moved across the bed covering, infinitely soft, smooth, almost the perfect combination of silk and satin. As she rubbed her thumb against her middle finger, she noted her nails had grown and wondered how long she had been unconscious.

Her senses seemed heightened. Scents began to tease at her nostrils, spice and musk. A second scent beguiled her senses, was it cloves and vanilla? Anya heard a very faint hum, almost imperceptible. It vibrated through her subtly. Machinery? Noise seemed muffled, soundproofed, carpeted. Who the hell carpeted a hospital room? I am having the ICU crazies.

Any medical professional who worked in or around patients in an intensive care unit knew the syndrome. A patient who spent more than a week in a unit would lose their hold on reality. Although quite sane, individuals reported hallucinations, blends of fact and fantasy. When she had been a medical student on ICU rotation, one of the patients thought she was housed in a bed in back of a theater, kidnapped by witches trying to trap her daughter. Dr. Stern had spent considerable time trying to talk the patient down. She finally calmed, but wasn’t herself again until she left the ICU.

But, this place didn’t smell like a hospital or a hospice. God, not a hospice. She had awakened only to die! Fat tears began to roll down her cheeks.

Wait, Anya, she told herself sternly. That underlying buzz is not medical equipment. You know what medical equipment sounds like.

She took a mental inventory of her body.

There are no IV lines, no tubes; she briefly remembered drinking through a straw and a beautifully designed tumbler.

This cannot be a hospice or a hospital.

Anya banked her emotional responses, making a deliberate effort to deal with the facts her senses had presented. With eyes still closed Anya inhaled deeply. What was that, a regular rhythm in and out, the even breath of sleep?

Beyond that, Anya listened. Was it running water?

She opened her eyes, keeping them open this time. She gingerly moved one arm, then the other, followed by each leg in turn. They responded sluggishly to her commands. She ran her fingers lightly over her body, feeling for her ribs. Her stomach was now a hollow above her mons. Her breasts felt the same, her thighs smaller. Her best professional guess was that she had lost thirty or more pounds. The water stopped. She heard heavily cushioned footsteps, but suddenly she was too exhausted to care where she was. She closed her eyes, just for a minute longer.