Barbary

“I think you must have, though. Rather badly, the way she looked.” He folded one leg under him. He was barefoot. “There are quite a few people on the station. We don’t have a lot of living area. As much space as we can, we use for research. And right now, with the extra people, it’s very crowded. After they go home, I think we can find a room for you. That’s the best I can offer just now. Can you be patient for a while?”

Barbary guessed that the only alternative to patience was going back to earth.

“Yeah,” she said. She heard a faint scratching from the desk. “Sure.” She would have said almost anything to get Yoshi to leave. “I’m really sorry. I’ll tell Heather.”

“Good.” Yoshi got to his feet. “We’re very glad to have you with us. But the environment’s different. It’s difficult. It takes extra effort to get along, sometimes.”

“I understand,” Barbary said. “I’ll do better from now on.”

“Okay.” Yoshi went to the door, opened it, and glanced back with a grin. “I’ll let Heather know you want to talk to her.” He closed the door.

“Oh, shit,” Barbary whispered.

She stopped herself from shouting, but not because she cared right now whether anyone thought she was civilized. She was afraid Yoshi would hear her and wonder what she was still so upset about.

But she did not know what to do. Even if she wanted to drug Mickey again — which she did not — she had no more pills. Besides, she could not keep him drugged all the time. She had concentrated so hard on how to smuggle him off earth that she had never thought about what she would do if she succeeded. Now she had to face that problem.

She heard a louder, more insistent scratching from her desk.

The bedroom door opened and Heather came in.

“Hi,” she said, watchful restraint in her voice. “Yoshi says you want to talk to me.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. The room’s really nice. It’ll be fun to share it. I wouldn’t have said what I did, only I’m awfully tired. I need to take a nap before I fall over —”

“Mrrow,” the desk said, through Barbary’s rush of words.

“What was that?” Heather said.

“Nothing. What do you mean? I didn’t hear anything.”

Mick yowled and scratched frantically. If he did not get his way soon, he would howl so loudly that no one in the apartment could possibly miss it.

Heather looked curiously at the desk. “What have you got in there?” she said.

Mickey growled. Barbary yanked the drawer open to keep him from screeching. He poked his head out, blinked, and sprang out of his hiding place.

“What’s that?” Heather said. “Is that a rabbit? How did you get him up here? What’s his name?”

Mickey took a couple of cautious steps, gathered his powerful hind legs under him, and leaped to the top bunk. He walked across it, his paws making small padding noises on the puffy comforter.

“A rabbit! Don’t you know anything? He’s a cat!” Barbary swung around suddenly and grabbed Heather’s shoulders, pushing her hard against the wall. Heather caught her breath in astonishment.

“If you tell anybody…” Barbary said, “if you tell on us and they take Mick away, I’ll get you for it if it’s the last thing I do!”

“Tell on you? Are you kidding? I’ve always wanted to see a cat. I never have before.” She shrugged Barbary’s hands from her shoulders. “Let me go. Boy, are you dumb. Do you really think you can hide him here without my help?”

As Barbary watched in surprise, Heather pushed past her and bounced to the upper bunk, where Mickey was sniffing at corners. He sat down and looked at her, blinking his big yellow eyes.

“He’s really neat. How did you get him to the station? No wonder you wanted me out of here. But you should have trusted me first thing. Will he let me touch him?”

“I don’t know,” Barbary said. “I doubt it. He doesn’t like strangers much. He might scratch you.”

Heather extended one hand toward him. Barbary stood on the lower bunk with her elbows on the upper one.

“It’s okay, Mick, she won’t hurt you.”

“Does he understand you?”

“Sometimes he seems like he does,” Barbary said. “Other times he just ignores you. Cats are like that. He doesn’t do what you tell him unless he wants to.”

Mickey sniffed at Heather’s outstretched fingers, bristled his whiskers, and then, to Barbary’s surprise, rubbed his head against Heather’s hand.

“Oh,” Heather said. “I didn’t know he’d be so soft.”

Barbary showed Heather how to pet Mickey, using long, smooth strokes going the same way his fur grew. He stretched his hind legs and the nub of his tail stood straight up.

“He really doesn’t have a tail!” Heather said. “That’s why I thought he was a rabbit. Rabbits have long ears and a short tail and cats have short ears and a long tail. That’s what I read. Is he half and half?”

“No, there isn’t any such thing as half and half. That would be a mess even if you could do it. Cats eat meat and rabbits eat carrots and stuff. He’s a Manx cat. They don’t have tails.”

“Why not?”

“They just don’t.”