by E. D. Walker
Zandro
Alien Animal Rescues #1
by E.D. Walker
Published by EDW Books.
Original Copyright 2018. Elizabeth Walker
Cover designed by Najla Qamber Designs www.najlaqamberdesigns.com
Edited by Veronica Scott and Pauline Baird Jones
Formatting by Polgarus Studio www.polgarusstudio.com
Bajo Cat title page art by Nyssa Juneau www.nyssajuneau.com
Note: This story originally appeared as "The Bajo Cats of Anteros XII" by E.D. Walker in the anthology Embrace the Passion: Pets in Space 3.
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All characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination.
Contact the author: [email protected]
www.edwalkerauthor.com
DEDICATION
For my own Bajos.
Zandro’s com gave an insistent chime on its charging station, pulling him out of a restless sleep. His window was still dark so it had to be late. Scrubbing at his face, trying to wake himself up, he hit the button to accept the call. Calls this late were never good news, so he trooped to his small kitchen and hit the coffee button on the food replicator. “This is Zandro Casillas.”
“Hi, I’m Ari Illeyn. I’m sheriff on Anteros XII, and we need your help…”
Zandro didn’t know this Ari on the other end of the line but, after a quick back and forth, he determined the sheriff was a friend of a friend from two star systems over who knew about Zandro’s rescue work.
Zandro prepped his coffee as he listened to the sheriff. “Which one is Anteros XII?”
“It’s a small moon. A quick jump over from your colony.” The sheriff’s voice was high and tense. “We just busted some rich druggies, and they had two bajo kittens among their stash. We’ve never had to deal with this before—”
Dread lumped in Zandro’s stomach, and he set his coffee down hard enough to spill on the countertop. “I can be there by the end of the day.”
Ari on the other end of the line sputtered. “No, no, you don’t have to do that. We can handle kittens. I just wanted some tips—”
Zandro took a deep breath in and held it, trying to likewise hold on to his temper. “Sheriff, bajo cats secrete one of the most powerful psychotropic substances ever discovered in known space, and they secrete it basically unchecked when they’re newborns. How many of the people in your office handled the kittens with their bare hands?”
“Um…almost all of us?”
Get ready for the high of your life, sheriff. Zandro swallowed a small, heartfelt curse, and kept his voice low and calm. “OK, you’re going to need to call some medical staff in to help your team. If anyone needs to handle the kitten before I arrive, please wear gloves. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
“Maybe…maybe we should put the animals down? If they’re that dangerous?”
Zandro’s gut went ice cold. “There are only a few hundred bajo cats left in the galaxy that we know of. Please, please just wait for me to get there.”
A long silence followed, and Zandro gritted his back teeth. “All right,” the sheriff said at last. “But if you can’t make it today—”
“I will. Now tell me where to go.” Zandro got details for the sheriff station and cut the call. He swallowed as he contemplated his communicator. He had to get to that moon fast. The kittens would be dehydrated, maybe in shock. Cold. And then there were all the complications that went along with just handling the poor things. The longer he left the kittens with inexperienced caretakers the greater the chance that someone was going to get badly hurt.
And never mind if the drug dealers’ friends came looking for their missing cats.
He raked his fingers through his hair and twirled his com device in his hands over and over and over. He didn't know who to call.
Well, no, he knew exactly who to call. But he couldn't call her.
So he didn't know who to call.
The moon was a quick jump by spaceferry if only he could wait a few hours until mid-morning. But, if he did, the two kittens might be dead, and the whole police station might be convulsing on the floor in aftershocks from the creatures’ powerful pheromones.
Chanting expletives under his breath, Zandro keyed in a once familiar comcode. He hadn't dialed it in long time. Her profile picture was years out of date, and he didn't know what she looked like now. He'd certainly grown more lined and grizzled in five years. Surely she didn't look peach fresh and pretty anymore either.
He tapped her picture then winced as he noticed the time. It was really late. Or really early. Depended on whether you were coming or going. I’m such a jerk. As the com chimed his stomach knotted, and he almost hung up. It was 3 a.m. Space freighters ran on standard time. If she was on her ship it was the middle of the night, and if she was earthbound somewhere then who the hell knew what time it was.
3 a.m. Who might she be with? What might she be doing?
Stop thinking, Zandro.
The line clicked and a raspy voice answered. The vid feed snapped into focus a minute later, and his chest went tight seeing her. Tousled hair, sleepy eyes, lips pursed and soft with sleep. Her brow furrowed, and her gaze sharpened as she shook her head. “Zandro, what the hell?”
An ache started in his gut at her familiar sleep-roughened voice, a squeeze that made him nearly breathless. “Hi, Aliette.”
She pulled her unruly red hair away from her eyes. “Zandro. What. The. Hell.”
He cleared his throat. “I, um, I need a favor.”
Aliette stared at him a long moment, blinking. Her sleepy brain probably wasn’t functioning at full speed yet. Her nostrils flared as she raked her gaze up and down his face. “Are you kidding me?” she spat.
But she didn't hang up. Small mercies. Small hope. Zandro clasped his hands together in front of his face, his nerves jangling. There was no Plan B if she said no. “Allie, you know I wouldn't call you if there was anyone else. You know that.”
She snorted. “Gee thanks.”
“You know what I mean. But there are two kittens—”
Her shoulders rolled down in what might’ve been resignation. “Of course there are.” For the first time, she sounded more sad than mad. “Zandro, you can't save the whole world.”
“I can try.” He swallowed. “It sounds like newborns, and the sheriff station who have them don't know the proper procedures. They don't have the proper equipment. If I don't get there fast it won't just be two dead kittens. It might be a dead moon.”
“You suck, Zandro.” She sighed gustily and glared at him. “Meet me at the dock in fifteen minutes. You’re lucky I was visiting my mom this week.”
“You’re here? You’ve been here?”
She threw her hands up in the air. “Yeah, Zandro. About a week. What’s it to you?”
A week. It hurt more than it should’ve that she hadn’t tried to contact him. Why should she have told him she’d be on planet? He’d given up that right years ago. He cleared his throat. “Right. Sorry.”
“Fifteen. Minutes.” With a final, grumpy grunt, she hung up her line and the vid pick-up winked out.
His own reflection stared back at him out of a dead black
screen. What had he been thinking of to call Aliette? What a singularly stupid thing to do to himself. He was just asking for pain.
Fifteen minutes. He needed to get going. With a situation like this, every minute counted. He needed to get to that moon otherwise he would’ve called Aliette for nothing.
Nothing but the joy of hearing how much she hated him. He shook himself and fumbled into his pants. Worry about the cats, Zandro. The kittens he could maybe save. After all this time, he knew there was no saving his relationship with Aliette.
***
Zandro Casillas. Who’d a thought it?
As soon as Aliette cut the call with him she flopped into her bunk and tossed an arm over her eyes. Why had she said yes? What on earth had she been thinking? She didn’t owe Zandro anything. He’d already chosen his cats over her all those years ago. She didn’t have to make herself into his errand girl now when they weren’t even together.
She rolled onto her belly and rested her cheek against her arms. Her gut was fluttering at just the thought of seeing him. Maybe that’s why I said yes?
Because no one was like Zandro. At least not for her. She’d visited her mom several times since they’d broken up and managed to resist the urge to call him. Now, with one simple yes, it felt like she was risking years of work getting over him.
“Ugh.” She shoved herself upright and crawled off her bunk. He’d be here any minute, and she didn’t want to look like something pried out of the garbage disposal. She threw her coveralls on in record time then brushed her long hair and pulled it back into a braid. He’d always liked her hair down, so she ruthlessly scraped her hair back and up. She didn’t do anything to please Zandro anymore.
Except help him with his stupid bajo rescue work.
But she could chalk that up to simple charity, couldn’t she? It could just mean she was a good person helping rescue kittens. It didn’t have to mean…anything else.
She had her toothbrush in her mouth when her ship chimed a proximity warning and her com unit chirped with a message. Aliette rinsed and spit, and was pissed at herself to find her hands shaking when she went to put her toothbrush away. “Really?” She growled exasperation and took a long, slow breath. “It’s just Zandro.”
But her heart was hammering in her ribs as she jogged from the crew quarters to the entry ramp and keyed it open to let him inside. A beam from the lamps on the landing pad arced across the floor as the door tilted open, and Zandro stood silhouetted by the light, haloed like some sun king of old.
He was just as gorgeous as she remembered. Dammit. Tall and broad-shouldered, with a honey gold tan to his skin and silky dark hair grown longer than it used to be. Her fingers itched remembering how soft his hair had been, and how lovely the weight of his body curled around hers had been.
He smiled when he saw her, a flash of white against his dark skin. “Aliette.”
Her chest ached seeing his easy smile, hearing her name on his lips. I missed you. She shook her head and swallowed the words down.
Zandro scrubbed his fingers through his hair, looking nervous as he avoided eye contact. “Thank you for agreeing to do this, Aliette. I need to get to those kittens, and I can’t wait for the ferry. They don’t even start running ships until mid-morning.”
“Yeah. Well.” She twisted her fingers together and just looked at him, deeply unsettled, deeply uncertain.
Zandro waited a moment then cleared his throat. “Ah, permission to board, captain?”
“Right. Sorry.” She stumbled back a step and hugged her arms around herself as he passed. He had his “go-bag” with him. It contained all the supplies he’d need to care for the kittens and tucked up under his other arm was a clear plastic container with no lid where he’d keep the cats while they were on board.
“You’ll keep them away from me?” She swallowed, her blood firing with anger and a little bit of fear. “I don’t have a patch anymore, and I don’t fancy spending the next several days high and barfing. I can’t be around your damn cats.”
“I brought a patch for you. I always make sure I have an extra. Now.” His voice sounded soft, contrite.
“I must be crazy. I can’t believe I agreed to this.” The sight of his kitten bag had triggered something primal inside her, like pulling a cork from a bottle. Memories assaulted her of the last time she’d been around his rescue work. A big tomcat bajo had attacked her. Clawed her back up and set her off on a three-day drug trip that nearly killed her. Zandro had had to tie her down, give her a mouth guard. It had been painful, traumatizing. Humiliating. Aliette retreated form him and hugged herself. “I should throw you off my ship.”
He hung his head, his jaw clenching. “I’m sorry, Aliette. I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have asked if there’d been any other option. I know this isn’t fair to you. But please: I need your help. I’ll be careful with the kittens, I promise. You won’t even know we’re here.”
The problem was she knew just how dire the situation with the kittens was. Not just for the animals, but for everyone around them. Bajo cats needed to be handled by people who knew what they were doing, and it was perilous to be around them for too long if you didn’t. She had the scars on her back to prove that. She wouldn’t, couldn’t let that happen to someone else. Aliette scrubbed her hands over her face and glared at Zandro. “Crew quarters are the same as ever. I’ll be in the cockpit.” Nerves jittery, heart aching, she wheeled on her heel and stormed away from him. I knew I shouldn’t have answered his call.
***
So his reunion with Aliette could’ve gone better. She’d braced herself to have the kittens onboard, but confronting him and his go bag had probably brought bad memories back for her.
Zandro sighed and hiked to the back of the ship. Fortunately, there were two crew cabins so Aliette wouldn’t have to share with him and the bajo cats.
Unable to help himself, Zandro peeked his head inside Aliette’s room and was a little pleased to see not much had changed. The small cabin was still mostly occupied by her giant bed. Aliette had always said if she had to choose between floor space and mattress she’d choose the mattress. And he’d definitely had cause in the past to appreciate that preference.
His stomach clenched staring down at the big expanse of mattress and rumpled bedding. They’d had good times in that room, on that bed. Some of the best of his life. I miss her.
He shook the thought away, closed her door with a click, and crossed to the empty crew cabin. He didn’t have the right to miss her, didn’t have the right to ask or even want anything from her beyond this emergency imposition. He’d disappointed her too much, hurt her too much, to try and open that door again. No matter how much he wished he could.
The crew cabins on her ship were cramped with a bunk bed bolted to one corner and a set of drawers opposite. Tight quarters for two humans to share, but not too bad for him and the cats. He closed the door behind him with a click. Ari from the sheriff’s office had finally sent over some pictures of the two kittens. He wanted to get a rough guess on their ages before he got there. Made mixing the formula easier.
He was pleasantly surprised to see the kittens already had their eyes open which meant they were about four weeks old. They’d still need a lot of care, but they were probably sturdier than newborns without their mother.
The kittens were a little blue and a purple. The blue was a puff ball with silky fur of a startling electric blue. His tufted ears were tipped with a darker blue and his hide was spotted with paler blue spots. The purple was smaller, fluffier, and more purple-blue in color, with darker spots and a white belly. Both cats had eyes of bright gold like old-fashioned coins shining out of their faces. The kittens were dirty for sure and looked a little thin, but they seemed alert in the pictures as they crawled over a deputy’s lap and—unfortunately—bare hands.
Zandro closed his com unit and started getting his plastic container ready for its eventual tenants. The problem with Bajo cats was they were just too beautiful. And with their enhanced
abilities that made them even more desirable. So they were being poached on all sides. For their fur. For their pheromones. For the pet trade. Basically any and everything the bajo cats were and did made them appealing to folks.
Which is part of what made being a bajo cat rescuer such a pain. How were you supposed to rescue something that was in peril from so many different angles? If there were only one angle of attack maybe there would be a place to target. Go after the pet trade. Go after the drug dealers. Go after the idiot ladies who wanted pretty fur coats. But all of them at once…ALL OF THEM AT ONCE? Impossible. All Zandro had to his name was a few heating pads, some old blankets, and a mountain of donated cat food. All he had were 200 million followers on three social media sites. He could turn public opinion and try to educate, but he couldn't win this war on his own.
Maybe he should have switched to regular kittens. Regular kittens needed help too. But so few people were qualified to help bajo kittens. So few people were authorized to have the dampening patch. If he gave up that meant fewer animals would be saved. He had to keep at it. He had to keep fighting.
Even if it was tough on relationships. How was he supposed to bring someone into his life when there was a chance that angry drug dealers were going to bash his door down, bash his head in and steal his kittens?
With all the crap he had to deal with—literal and figurative—as a bajo cat rescuer it probably was just going to be him and his cats. Forever.
He dug through his bag for the patch he’d promised Aliette. After years of working with bajo cats, he’d developed immunity to their pheromones and gradually been able to wean himself off the dampening patches. It was a real boon not to have worry about their pheromones, but it did sometimes make him forget that others weren’t that lucky.