Eye of The cat, page 7
but here we are what we are,
& knowing it all, there is shelter
& pain drains away
Walter Sands,
left home when he was 14,
after blinding the stepfather who beat him,
knowing he had the power & could make his way, big for his age, won most fights
(with a little help from the power)
& most games of chance
(ditto),
seldom held a real job,
save as a kind of cover,
enlisted in the Perimeter Patrol at age 18—
the international Coast Guard-like space service— for a 4-year hitch because he wanted to see what was Out There,
was well-liked, could have become an officer if he’d cared to stay, didn’t, though,
because he’d seen what he’d joined to see
& that was enough,
grew darkly handsome, avoided close emotional involvements
though he liked people, singly & in groups,
except once, married at 28, divorced at 30,
one daughter, now 16, Susannah, whose picture he carries,
& that was enough,
likes spectator sports, travel & historical novels, seldom overindulges in anything, is totally irreligious,
but prides himself on a personal code involving honor, which he has only violated 6 or 7 times and always felt bad about afterwards,
is normally trustworthy but seldom trusts,
having seen the insides of too many heads,
suffers, if anything,
from a feeling that life is
& always will be too secure & bland a thing for him, which is why he enjoys vicarious risks, which usually turn into sure things, leaving him vaguely dissatisfied
this one may prove more interesting, fortunate brother, if not peace then adrenalin to you
Elizabeth Brooke,
daughter of Thomas C. Brooke, painter, sculptor,
& Mary Manning, concert pianist, author,
younger of two daughters, showed artistic & literary aptitudes in early childhood, vacationed with her family every summer
in France, Ireland or Luna City,
schooled in Switzerland & Peking, married Arthur Brooke (first cousin)
at age 24,
widowed at age 25, no children, lost herself in social work
on Earth & off for the following 6 years where her unfolding talent was both her joy & her grief,
returned to writing & painting,
exhibiting extraordinary perceptive powers, understanding of the human spirit
& technical abilities,
has enjoyed a liaison with a high-ranking
MP for the past 6 years,
has always felt partly responsible for Arthur’s death
because of a series of bitter confrontations following her discovery of his homosexuality
we hold you, sister, against the unchanging past in warmth
& full understanding
James MacKenzie Ironbear,
half Scot, half Oglala Sioux, born on reservation land, parents separated early, raised by his mother in Bloomington, Indiana,
& Edinburgh, Scotland, where she worked for the universities’ custodial staffs,
displayed high mechanical aptitudes
& telepathic abilities before age 5,
seldom visited relatives on his father’s side, first-class baseball & soccer player, could have gone professional
but preferred the engineering he pursued on his athletic scholarship,
his best friend an Eskimo boy from Point Barrow,
they spent their summers together in Alaska during their college careers as rangers in Gateway to the Arctic
National Park,
fathered one son, now in his teens
& living in Anchorage,
later served in Perimeter Patrol
where his telepathic ability came to the attention of government authorities,
was recruited for occasional work
of the sort Charles Fisher did for them, which is where he met Fisher, becoming friends with him,
has since fulfilled 5 separate
one-year contracts in space engineering, working half of the year in orbit,
is on leave of absence from his sixth,
pending divorce from Fisher’s sister, Peg,
who works for the same company
& resides in the great tube of Port O’Neill with their daughter Pamela,
attended his father’s funeral this past summer
& was surprised to find himself deeply saddened that he had never known the man,
had suddenly decided to chuck everything
& study music, an enterprise commenced when he sobered up a month later
& followed diligently until this call came in,
finding himself thinking more & more
of his shrunken father, lying there in a beaded leather jacket,
& of the son he has not seen in years
come close, brother, where we who are greater than one hold greater understanding, absorb more hurt
It is good that you wish to walk in beauty, with beauty all around you, my son. But a hunter should not speak prayers from the Blessingway during the hunt, for they all have the life blessing at the end and you require a prayer of death. To Talking-god must you speak, and to Black-god: Aya-na-ya-ya! Eh-eh-eh! Here is the time of the cutting of the throat! Na-eh-ya-ya! It happens in a holy place, the cutting of the throat! Ayah, na-ya-ya! The cutting of the throat is happening now in a holy place! Na-ya-ya! It is the time of the cutting of the throat! Ya-eh-ni-ya!
“It is not always life that must be blessed.”
Night. He stands before the force wall. He watches the rock unfold itself.
There are clouds in your mind, hunter.
There are many things in my mind, Cat.
You have come. Have we a bargain?
Do as I asked you and I will do as you asked me.
We have a bargain. Release me.
It will take a minute or so.
The form rose to become a white pillar, the single, faceted eye drifting upward along it. Billy Singer moved to the area where the controls were housed. He opened the case and lowered the potential of the field.
The base of the pillar split and forelimbs disassociated themselves from the main mass higher up. A bulbous protuberance grew at the top, the eye coming to rest at its center. The forked segments became leglike. A tightening at the middle was suddenly a narrow waist. The head elongated, growing vaguely lupine. The shoulders widened, the arms and legs thickened. Excess mass was shifted behind, becoming a broad tail. The manlike thing was tall, over two meters, and it darkened as it moved forward, exhibiting a grace which suggested earlier rehearsal of the form.
Silent for all of its bulk, it removed itself from the enclosure and went to stand before the man.
I suggest you restore the force screen. That way it could be several days before they notice my absence. I have accustomed them to such a situation by assuming the appearance of portions of the habitat for days at a time.
/ had already thought of that, Billy replied. But first I wanted to watch you change.
You were impressed?
Yes. You do it quickly, he said in his mind, turning the field on again. Come. “I’ll take you to a trip-box now. You will have to charge it to my number without my card—which will require a confirmation by me from the other end, since “I’ll have to pass through first and—
I know how they work. I have had little but the thoughts of your fellows to fill me for a long while.
Come, then.
Billy turned away and moved across the hall.
You show me your back. Do you not fear that I will leap upon you and rend you? Or is your action calculated?
I feel you wish to encounter the Stragean. Kill me now and the opportunity will be lost to you.
A shadow as silent as himself—somewhat more manlike than moments earlier, and hence more alien—came abreast of him to the left. It matched his pace, the movements of his arms, all of his rhythms. He could feel its power as they glided through the hall. Inhabitants of the enclosures they passed shifted uneasily, whether in sleep or full wakefulness. Billy felt a touch of amusement in the alien mind at his side—and then a broadcast Farewell! which roused the creatures to frantic activity.
He led the way outside, where he breathed deeply of the night air. The creature at his side dropped to all fours, then moved away, sliding into and out of shadows from unsuspected directions as they advanced.
From somewhere up ahead, a dog began to bark—a sound terminated in midnote to the accompaniment of a brief thrashing noise. Billy did not change his pace, knowing by senses other than sight that Cat was with him all the way to the trip-box.
All right, he said. I’ll key the thing. I will go through to a small public box a few miles from the place we will be guarding. If there is any reason at that end for you not to come through, I will use the communicator. Otherwise, be ready to follow me.
A piece of shadow came loose nearby and drifted toward him. It was even more manlike in proportion now and had fabricated what could have been a long black cloak out of its own substance. The massive, faceted eye was deeply submerged within its head and masked by connective tissues in such a fashion as to give the impression of a pair of glittering, normally placed eyes.
On second thought, Billy said when he looked at him, I believe you could pass even if there is someone there.
I see the direction of your thoughts, if dimly. I will formulate something to resemble darkened glasses and muster something nearer to human skin-coloration. Why are your thoughts so clouded?
I am practicing to deceive our enemy, Billy replied, entering the box. I will see you soon.
Yes. I cannot be lost so easily, tracker.
He watched Billy manipulate the. controls and fade within the enclosure. Then he entered there himself. Extending what had become his right hand, he covered the slot where Billy had briefly inserted his credit slip. A portion of that appendage flowed into the opening and explored there for a time. When the call came through, he withdrew it and allowed himself to be transported.
Strange, a singing in his mind. Was there something in the places between the places, to sing so of frost and iron, fire and darkness? In a moment, it and its memory were gone.
Between the worlds walking.
Between the worlds walking.
Between the worlds walking.
Between the worlds walking.
There is something before me, behind me, to right and to left, above and below.
What, on all sides, is it?
Alex Mancin hit the button when he detected the presence, a moment before Walter Sands’s hand jerked in the same direction. Buzzing sounds filled the house and light flooded the lawns about it.
Yes
Mercy Spender joined them a moment later, sitting up in her bed
I can feel them
Them?
joined Fisher, putting down his book
There is only one
A man Ironbear joined, from sleep
moving strangely
nearby
Singer
no doubt
No man
joined Elizabeth, chasing dreams of dolphins
Something else thing
filled with hate
flowing
Together then
Sands joined
let us explore this
Yes
together we move
There is a man
fading now
and something else alien thing
aware of us
fading also
with the man
the thing is not the thing
we seek
it hunts with the man
our common enemy
retreating now
it sensed us
we know its signature
Shall we follow?
turn off the alarm
the guards come
we must report
I will follow
went Mercy, departing
the beast if I can
and I the man
moved Ironbear away
though the trail
I fear is covered now
apart break we then
we will report
Mancin and Sands, dividing
The following day, within a stand of trees about forty meters from the road, Billy Singer sat beside an icy stream, his back against a large, warm rock. He was eating a roast beef sandwich, watching the flight of birds, listening to the wind and observing the behavior of a small squirrel in the lower branches of a tree upstream, to his right.
Something hunts nearby, the other told him.
Yes, I know, he answered in thought.
Something large.
I know that, too.
It comes this way.
Yes. What is it?
I cannot tell. Come inside. We will observe.
Billy rose silently to his feet. The rock split down the middle vertically and opened like an upended clam. Even as he watched, the cavity within grew large, outside surfaces swelling proportionately. He entered, and it closed about him.
Darkness, pierced by a few small holes, forward…
He placed his eye against one. He was facing the stream. For a time, nothing happened. Several more apertures appeared before him, but the section he regarded remained unchanged.
Then he heard the splashing sounds. Something was approaching from beyond the shrub-lined bend. His stream of consciousness fell still. His was now the passive eye of the hunter, discerning everything before it without reflection. His breathing slowed even further. Time ceased to exist. Now…
First, a shadow. Then, slowly, the branched head appeared from beyond the bend. A deer, browsing along the stream bed…
Yet…
It moved again, forward, the rest of its body coming into view. There was something wrong with the way that it moved and held its head. The legs did not bend in quite the proper fashion. And the shape of the head was unusual. The cranium rose too high above the eyes…
Deerlike…Yes. A good approximation, perhaps, for someone who had only studied tridees of the creature. No doubt close enough to deceive any casual observer. But to Billy it could only be deerlike. He wondered whether Cat realized this, too.
.…Yes drifted through his mind.
Immediately, the creature before them froze, one less-than-delicate forelimb raised. Then the head turned, moving through unnatural angles to survey everything at hand.
Moments later, the creature exploded into movement, the entire body twisting, elongating, legs thickening, shortening, bunching.
And then it sprang off, back in the direction from which it had come.
Even as this occurred his shelter opened, regurgitating him with some force, and by the time Billy had regained his footing Cat was in the process of transformation back into the form of the hunting beast.
Not waiting for the metamorphosis to run its course, Billy ran in the direction the creature had taken, splashing into the stream and following it beyond the bend.
His eyes scanned both banks, but he discerned no signs that it had departed the water at either hand. He splashed onward, over gravel, sand and slick rocks, continuing his surveillance.
For a long while, he followed the twisting, watery route. But he heard no further sounds from ahead, nor could he detect any evidence of the creature’s having departed the stream. He halted at a rocky shingle to study it with extra care. As he did, he heard sounds of approach from the rear.
Farther ahead! Farther ahead! Cat told him. I’ve touched her mind. It slips away. But she betrays herself occasionally.
He turned and raced ahead. Cat bounded past him.
Something is happening. She is shifting again. She is up high somewhere now. She—Lost her…
Billy continued his advance along the watery way. Cat hurried on ahead and was lost moments later beyond the screening brush. After perhaps five minutes, Billy found what he had been seeking.
There was sign of something having left the water. He followed it up and to the right. The first clear print he located, however, was a peculiar, triple-pronged thing. But it was sufficiently large, and its depth in soil of that consistency was indication of the sort of mass that he knew he followed. The spoor led him off toward higher ground, and the next clear print he came upon showed a further alteration of shape.
And he came across the even fresher signs of Cat, still on the trail. Cat’s tracks were far apart and deeply sunk.
