Cat Karina (4 page)

“
Little Friends
,” she said to herself, blanking out her reaction to the man’s presence, “
don’t let me lose my temper
.”

“Let her go, Antrez,” said one of the crew unhappily.

“And I tell you another thing, cat-girl,” said the big man. “If there’s any trouble from you people at the Tortuga Festival this year, why, me and my friends have arranged a little surprise. I suppose you and your kind think you’re the only ones who hunt in packs? Well, now, the next time you take it into your heads to attack a True Human, you’ll be making one hell of a mistake. This time, cat-girl, you’ll find us ready and waiting.”

“Me?” said Karina, while the Little Friends held her in check. “
Me
attack a True Human?” Her eyes stared into his.

Her eyes like hummingbirds, amber and alive.…

“You people.…” Now he was unsure of himself. “You eat meat. That’s your problem. You use the Examples when they suit you, but you eat meat.” His expression changed as he watched her, and he blinked. He realized he was holding her breast and he let go, ashamed. Suddenly she was a girl — a very lovely young girl, whom he was bullying. He wondered what had got into him; whether some of Captain Herrero was rubbing off on him.

He turned away and left her standing there. As he went, he mumbled something that sounded very much like
sorry.…
The
Urubu
rumbled on down the slope. Karina stood trembling with rage and disgust while the morning sun began to warm the deck. Another crewman approached her and said, “Don’t mind Antrez — he takes his responsibilities seriously. He’s in charge up here. And let’s face it, girl, your father has no love for True Humans. And a lot of sailcars have been raided recently.”

“The good ones are never attacked.” But the Little Friends were soothing her and this True Human meant well. She tried to smile.

“That’s better.” He grinned at her. “Friends?”

Then the voice of Captain Herrero rasped from the pipe.

“Stand by for South Stage — and if any of those animals try to steal a ride kick them right off the deck. Pay out the mizzen sheet and brake for the curve — now! Watch out for that brute to starboard — looks like he has a rock in his hand. By Agni — it’s El Tigre! Right — haul in all sheets now and away we go!”

Karina leaped from the deck, rolled in the dirt, and stood.

The
Urubu
gathered speed, sailing rapidly away across the coastal plain in the bright morning sunlight.

“And just where in hell have you been, girl?”

El Tigre towered above Karina. In one hand he clutched a rock. In the other he held a mule whip, which he slapped ominously against his thigh.

It was a bad morning for El Tigre and it had been a bad night before. He’d called a meeting for sundown in the big community hut at the north end of the camp near the bachelor vampiros. It had not been well attended. He’d suspected this would happen, because people had been avoiding his eyes during the day.

At sundown he stood alone in the hut, waiting for the others. It was quiet outside, and the last wisps of cooking smoke faded away; nobody can cook in the evening, when the sun is gone. It was a moment of peace which the anticipation of the coming meeting could not destroy. As he stood there. El Tigre thought:
I love this place. I love the people and the things, the bright sun and the ever-cooling winds. I love the tall, slow men and the noisy vicious bands of fighting girls. I love the sounds and
the peace, the day and the night. I love the women.…
His mind dwelt kindly for a moment on the women he’d known; the grupos he’d fathered. There had been Belleza and Tanaril, Amora and Serena.… And others. His musings slowed. Serena, the mother of Teressa, Karina, Runa and Saba. Serena, who was gentle in an unusual way, and very loving, and strangely devoted. Serena, who was dead.…

And his whole being rose up in a moment of supreme, overpowering hatred for the True Humans, who had killed Serena.

“El Tigre! Is anything the matter?”

His lieutenant. Torch, had arrived and was regarding him in concern. El Tigre’s face was corded with veins and his fists were clenched in the air. He looked murderous, and somehow doomed.

“No, I’m fine.” The voice, after a moment’s pause, was deep and slow. “Where is everybody?”

“I saw Ligero and Manoso on their way, and others. Maybe,” suggested Torch with deference, “maybe it’s not the best time for meetings. El Tigre. The Festival is near. People have other things to think of.”

In the end there were about a dozen men in the hut. Big broad men, bigger than most True Humans, heavy of shoulder and haunch, with a slow, graceful way of moving. They were uneasy in one another’s company; felinos are solitary creatures. Only the powerful presence of El Tigre could bind them together; and tonight, even he was to have his difficulties. As Torch had said, it was not the best time. The sky darkened outside and the female grupos moved silently about their business, some of them slipping away into the bush, others gathering around the cooling sun-ovens to tell stories.

The grupo which bore El Tigre’s name because it had no mother passed by the door of the community hut, and Teressa called, “See you later, father!”

El Tigre growled, feeling embarrassed yet proud that his daughter had called to him, and began to address the meeting.

“Friends! I speak of revolution!”

“What, again?” came the audible comment and El Tigre, with that excellent night vision of his race, saw the lips of Dozo moving. Dozo, the elder sage, the fat bachelor who had never sired a grupo; the witty, lazy cynic who always seemed to be laughing at the ways of men.

Torch supported his leader, advancing on Dozo. “If you don’t want to hear of revolution, then get back to your quarters where the young bachelors are. You might find it more interesting!” This was a reference to Dozo’s rumored sexual preferences — a rumor which had never been proved. Or disproved, for that matter, since Dozo had an infuriating way of suggesting that the affairs of men were of little significance and that sex was possibly at the bottom of the list.

“I wouldn’t miss the sight of El Tigre making a fool of himself for all the tortugas in Rangua,” said Dozo, folding his arms across his ample paunch and lying back against the wall.

“Well, just be quiet, will you,” said El Tigre. Then he raised his voice again. “I have called you together to hear some important news which was brought over the hill today by one of our people from North Stage. He told me about developments in the delta which are a threat to us all. It seems — and our informant was sure of his facts — that a secret establishment has been set up. Now, this place is as closely guarded as the tortuga compounds themselves and the North Stage felinos have not been able to get through. However —”

“They have it on the word of certain howler monkeys,” interjected Dozo, mimicking El Tigre’s style perfectly.

“They had it from the tortuga guards — Specialists like ourselves —”

“What!” Dozo scrambled to his feet, seriously annoyed. “You compare us with the tortuga guards? Do you know what they are, El Tigre? Have you ever actually seen them, yourself?”

“Of course I have. They’re Specialists. All Specialists are brothers. We are all human beings of the Third Species, the Children of Mordecai.”

“They’re
crocodiles
, for God’s sake,” snapped Dozo. “They have crocodile genes in their make-up and by God, it shows. They’re untrustworthy, stupid and vicious. They lie instinctively. If you’re calling this meeting on the word of a crocodile, then I suggest you save your breath. Me, I’ve heard enough.”

Saying this, he lumbered out of the door and into the night. He left a silence behind him. His abrupt departure had had far more effect than any of his usual sly asides.

“Was it really the crocodiles who told your informant, El Tigre?” asked the tall, stooping Diferir.

El Tigre spoke with barely-suppressed rage. “They are
not
crocodiles. They are cai-men. It is contrary to the Examples to refer to human beings by animal names. It is as bad,” he said slowly, “as calling us jaguars.”

“But that’s exactly what they call
you
,” murmured Manoso, the tricky one. “El Tigre. The jaguar.”

“That’s different!” roared El Tigre, aware that he was losing his audience. “Listen to me! While we’re arguing trivialities the True Humans are massing to attack!”

“Attack?”

“Yes, attack! And what better time than the Tortuga Festival, when our women are drunk and copulating and unable to fight!” Now he had their attention again. He continued in tones of quiet menace. “In the delta the True Humans are constructing sailcars. But this is not the usual spate of building we see before the Festival, when the Cantons and the Companies compete to supply their captains with the biggest and swiftest cars. That’s happening as well, of course. The tortuga loading yard is buzzing with True Humans and their apish carpenters. It’s no secret.

“But deep in the mangroves of the delta they’re building a different type of car — lighter and carrying more sail than anything we’ve ever seen. The first of this new breed has already been tested. My spy tells me it flew down the rails like the wind itself. He said he’d never seen such speed — and mark this, my friends. He said the car was virtually soundless. It flitted past him like a white ghost. It was a moonlit night, and he got a good look at the captain and crew. The captain was Tonio. The name of the car is
Rayo
 — the Thunderbolt!”

Now Arrojo spoke excitedly. “Let’s send the grupos in! I can raise three — that’s fourteen women — for this kind of fight. It’s a time for cooperation!”

“It’s too late tonight,” said Diferir. “The grupos are scattered all over the place. Anyway, a thing like this needs careful planning. We must define our objectives: what, after all, are we trying to achieve?”

“I may be stupid,” said Torpe, a lolling felino, slow of speech, whose mouth tended to gape like a yawning llama and who was, in fact, stupid, “but surely El Tigre made it plain that our objective is the destruction of this
Rayo
.”

“But I’m not stupid.” The voice came from the doorway and El Tigre groaned. It was Dozo, who’d been unable to follow through with his grand exit and who’d hovered about outside, listening. “And I need to know a bit more. What exactly is the threat in this
Rayo
, El Tigre? Why do you say the humans are massing to attack? Surely the Rayo — if it exists — is just one more fast car. If it’s faster than the others, this means Captain Tonio will reach the southern markets before the other cars, and will get the best prices for his tortugas, and earn a bonus. And since he’s employed by Rangua Canton, the Lord will profit too. It’s an affair of True Humans. Why should we care?”

“Because
Rayo
can travel faster than a man on galloping horseback,” said El Tigre quietly. “Just think about that for a moment, Dozo.”

And Dozo said, “Oh.”

The others, standing and sitting around in the darkened hut, chewed this over. Nobody spoke. In a short while, even Torpe had worked out the significance of the True Humans’ technological advance.…

“So now,” said El Tigre heavily, rubbing it in, “a car full of soldiers can be transported anywhere on the coast before warning of its approach can be given. We would know nothing until the car appeared and unloaded. All our work — the scouting system we’ve built up over the years — will be useless.”

“But the Signalmen …?”

“They’ve never been on our side. Don’t kid yourself.”

“But we are not at war,” said Diferir mildly.

“We’ve always been at war. Ever since the great Mordecai created the first Specialist, we’ve been at war with the True Humans.”

“This is quite a moment in history,” said Dozo in calm tones. “Do you realize, it’s probably thousands of years since humans have been able to travel faster than a galloping horse? I’d hate to think that war was the only purpose of this step forward. Perhaps we should make sure of our facts before we do anything foolish. If True Humans had wanted to attack us, they’d have found ways of doing it before now. Sometimes I think you’re blinded by your hatred, El Tigre.”

“Make sure of our facts,” echoed Diferir the cautious.

“There are better ways of finding things out than talking to crocodiles,” said Manoso. “This Captain Tonio, for instance. He passes by most days. While I’m sure he would tell us nothing, he often has his son with him in the car. Now a young boy, gullible, engaged in conversation on the long pull up to the Town, well.… Need I say more?”

“True Humans are frightened of felinos,” Ligero objected. “We’re too big for them.”

“Who said anything about men?” Manoso chuckled. “I had in mind a young girl from the camp — beautiful, sexual.… True Humans are not scared of solitary women.”

“So long as there was no suggestion of a grupo.” Now Ligero laughed. “Even I am scared of grupos.”

“A solitary girl, in innocent conversation with Captain Tonio’s boy Raoul.…” Manoso’s insinuating tones whispered through the hut, firing their imaginations. “A girl about his own age, pretty, friendly.…”

“Who are you suggesting, Manoso?” asked El Tigre in ominous tones.

“I’m sure you’ll think of someone, El Tigre.”

The meeting degenerated into idle chatter. El Tigre stood silent and sombre. Nothing had changed. He doubted that the felinos would ever take concerted action against the True Humans. Feline males are solitary and independent, and that factor alone meant that the True Humans would always stay on top. And yet the felinos had what ought to be the deciding weapon, in the grupos. Nobody fights so bravely, so skilfully, so cohesively as a grupo of felinas. Yet if a weapon cannot be coordinated and properly deployed, its value is limited.…

The True Humans came like locusts, pouring out of an endless succession of fast sailcars and swarming into the camp, consuming everything and leaving only the bones of vampiro tents behind like corn stubble. The grupos fought to the death while the big males roared orders from strategic points until, themselves beset by enemies, they seized their ironwood swords and laid about them. But the True Humans came on, irresistible, superior, well-organized. The grupos fought in little knots of snarling fury and went under, one by one. The males were beaten back to the bachelor quarters and in the end, acknowledging defeat, melted away into the bush.…