Celta Cats

by Robin D. Owens

  A strange tang in the air that hadn’t been there a few minutes ago.

  He sniffed. Smelled broken egg, but not from clucker. Some nasty liquid drying in the sun.

  Heard little scratching scrabbles.

  Padding softly through the warm sand, he followed his nose, saw a hole in the sand twice the size of his curled self and deep enough that he could stand on all fours and just look over the rim.

  And if he jumped down and waited, the awful, encroaching water could get him. All his fur raised at the thought.

  “Eeek, big scary shadow!” screeched a voice so high it pierced Zanth’s mind.

  Inside the hole roiled a mass of little beings crawling over shell shards, appearing a bit more slimy than he cared to touch. Lifting his upper lip of his muzzle, he looked at them with a disapproving eye. Very ugly things.

  Mostly shell, maybe even too tough to eat already.

  “Heellllppp!” the things chorused, moving the limbs sticking out from their body shells awkwardly.

  And as the words echoed in his mind, his stomach squeezed in revulsion. Bad taste in his mouth, a tickle at the bottom of his throat like he’d vomit. Which meant he couldn’t eat them because they were sentient FamAnimals. Or could be FamAnimals if they grew more.

  They’d always be ugly, though.

  “Look, a Big Thing!” one squealed. Big green eyes watching us.

  No SHELL! shrilled another, shocked.

  NO SHELL, the others echoed.

  Dark and light weedy stuff on his body!

  All of their little heads craned toward him, shiny beady eyes fixed on him.

  He smelled that they were all little females.

  Urgh.

  “Will it help?” asked one, even as others scrabbled under their sisters.

  He counted them. Two paws worth of claws. What people called ten.

  A couple tried crawling up the hole, but the sand gave way and they tumbled back down. Hole might have been a slight indentation when their eggs were first buried, but nature or animals or something had dug it deeper and the babies were stuck.

  That hadn’t seemed to occur to them, yet. But Zanth understood their problem.

  He’d have liked to have turned his back on them and abandoned them to their fate, but he couldn’t stay on the beach while they died. Would make him uncomfortable. And maybe sad.

  He had begun to love the beach, the smells and the endless soothing sound of the waves coming and going. He’d like to stay and nap.

  He considered. If he saved them, he could be a hero. Again. He liked being a hero, the extra good furrabeast steak, the additional pats and pets, the praise and smiling expression FamWoman gave him for days and days.

  FamMan might even make Zanth a new earring. He’d had his eye on a yellow diamond that FamMan had selfishly refused to give him.

  Yes, he’d be a hero.

  He dipped his head into the hole. “Greetyou, young creatures. What are you?” He thought he knew, he’d seen a couple of beings that looked like them on his FamMan’s land.

  “We are tutts…”

  “Turts…”

  “Tulles…”

  “Turtles!” One finally got it out right.

  “We are sea turtles!” They all chorused in his mind, definite now.

  You smart animals, Zanth informed them telepathically. Since you can talk, and talk mind to mind with Me. *I* am FamCat. THE FamCat of Celta, he ended grandly, revealing the highest of his high status.

  Ooooh! the little female turtles cooed in his mind while making odd clicking sounds, maybe their beaks. Zanth didn’t know. Didn’t much care.

  But we can’t SEE the ocean. We must go there. Now! one insisted. She had climbed on top of her sisters and stretched her neck to look at Zanth.

  Yep, their smarts sizzled through their brains. Their tiny brains. Amazing they could think a-tall.

  You in hole. Think you should not be. Who knows?

  I don’t know, someone said.

  Not me, said another.

  Zanth closed his eyes. That was not a question to answer.

  He heard baby turtle sounds and they all seemed to be moving again, trying to get out of their hole. Looking down at it with distaste, he figured that he’d have to get down there and lift the little ones up.

  Or dig a ramp. That would take long and his white paws would get all gritty and when he groomed he’d have to spit out sand... Easier to just jump in.

  But bottom of hole looked ick. And maybe the shells would cut his paws.

  Huffing a breath, he figured that this hero business tried a good FamCat.

  He moderated his cat sounds so they would vibrate right in the Fam language. “All move toward sun, clear space for Me. Get you out of hole, you head for water...ocean,” he corrected.

  Yesssss! They sounded thrilled. More joyous clickings and their legs moved faster until they almost scuttled.

  Zanth lowered his hind right leg into the hole, tipped and slid into it, thankfully squashing no one.

  But a sharp shell shard poked his butt. He swatted it away. Other bits, and sand, stuck to his fur. Nasty.

  I meant to do that, he sent mind-to-mind.

  One of the turtles crawled over his paw. I am ready for mother ocean, let me go!

  No use for it, he had to close his mouth around her. Just as he thought, didn’t taste good. He put her over the lip of the hole, nudged her in the direction of the big and restless water.

  Her back legs moved, sending a tiny spray of sand into his eyes. He grunted, bent, picked up another awful tasting thing, this one with grit attached to her, put her on the sand. Again and again.

  Then a bird screeched, dove.

  Toward Zanth’s turtles! He flung back his head and sang his battle cry! Pushed with his mind to the sky and the bird.

  It jerked mid-air, tumbled, barely pulled out of the steep dive and wheeled away, screeching. Other gathering birds scattered to avoid it. Then they shot away over the water, screaming bird insults at Zanth that echoed through the blue sky.

  Watching his paws so he didn’t step on anyone, he leapt, using a little Flair, psi power, to the top of the hole.

  The first sea turtle scuffed along the sand, legs paddling madly, a whole meter away from the hole. He snorted. He’d have to help that way, too, carry them close to the white foam. Maybe he could accept slightly damp paws, but not wet ones. Such sacrifices he made to be a hero!

  Birds still flew over the waves, watching. Waiting to see if Zanth would be less vigilant.

  Little trails marked the progress of those turtles he’d already saved.

  Easy to see and find.

  After a huff of breath, he hopped back into the hole and quickly lifted the other females out, then licked his fur of sea spray, to rid himself of the nasty taste. He trotted over to his herb bed to munch a bite or two so his mouth would actually feel good and to rest a bit before continuing his hero deeds.

  Just as he considered returning to nudge them to the beginning of the wet part of the sand, he heard yells and sifting thuds in the distance.

  The smell of boy smacked him. He lifted his head and saw them—three, carrying sharply pointed sticks—top the dunes and race through the sea oats, smashing the plants aside. Kicking and scuffing their feet, sand and uprooted plants following them down the slide of the dune.

  Birds cawed raucously, still there, still watching. This time yelling more at the boys.

  They waved their sticks, continuing to shout. “They’ve hatched and they got outta the hole we put their eggs in. Get ‘em!”

  Rushing toward him thoughtlessly, not even noticing Zanth.

  The boys would run right over him, and squash his herb patch on the way to the turtles,

  Zanth didn’t think there’d be enough flesh on the baby turtles to make even an appetizer for one of these boys.

  So they killed just for the fun of it.

  He growled. This was His Beach. He would NOT let mean boys do death to those he’d go
ne to great effort to save. He would NOT let them think they could intimidate HIM. Come on HIS property and do whatever they liked.

  Eying them, he jump-teleported with his mind-magic, his Flair, to three meters in front of them. Bristled and showed fangs.

  Me Zanth! he yelled. You on Me’s beach. GO AWAY!

  “A cat!” The biggest boy grinned at him, showing his punier human teeth, and cruelty lit his eyes.

  Another boy skidded to a halt, windmilled, dropped his stick. “A FamCat. I dunno about this.”

  “Coward,” the big one sneered, slapping his stick in his palm, moving his feet like he planned on attacking Zanth.

  “Maybe I am a coward, but I heard a rich noble bought this land, and I’m not crossing him. I got my future to think about.”

  Smart boy! Zanth projected, but didn’t take his locked gaze away from the big bully boy. Then he yelled proudly, I am GreatLord T’Ash’s Fam, ZANTH. Everyone knows Me!

  “I’ve hearda T’Ash, and I’m out. Little sport in killing baby turtles, ‘specially not now.” With a grunt, and a loud pop, the second boy vanished, teleporting away.

  Zanth took that instant to check mentally on the little female turtles. Still on the beach near the hole. Meters and meters away from the big water.

  “Whatabout you, Agal? You desertin’ me?” taunted the first boy to the third.

  “I dunno—” He shifted his feet back and forth, his round face slack, his eyes focused beyond Zanth on the sand and the turtles. “I like poking turtles more’n cats.”

  I can fight TWO. I can WIN, Zanth shouted to their dull minds. Me BIG cat.

  “Yeah, big,” the less smart boy, Agal, said. “Tall as my knees. Tough, mebbe. Might bite.”

  WILL BITE! Zanth confirmed. He let them see as he flexed his claws, thought about fight.

  Should not kill boys, hurt them too bad. Zanth’s FamMan not like that. Hero status smudged.

  First boy narrowed his eyes, rumbled low words under his breath, swung the stick. Zanth didn’t flinch. Boy too far away to hit him.

  Boy shot forward.

  Zanth yowled his battle cry again, then, Let’s fight!

  Boy pounded the stick down, Zanth hopped left. Boy’s weapon struck sand and some spit away, stinging Zanth, but boy huffed, his arm holding stick trembled.

  Chest and body wide open. Zanth leapt, all claws out, hit boy, hooked claws into thin tunic, shredded it, sliced into boys skin, let himself slide down, ripping boy, to boy’s crotch...

  Boy screamed, dropped stick, grabbed at Zanth. He bit boy’s hand, good. Teleported away and to ground. Spit out bit of boy flesh.

  “I’ll kill you,” bully shrieked.

  NO YOU WON’T, Zanth shouted back. Felt full of fight and hopped around here, there, left, right, east, west.

  From the corner of his eye he saw other boy look at him, at big water, at him, drop stick and run away.

  Big boy lunged forward. Zanth ‘ported to his shoulder, swiped claws along his forehead and blood fell into boy’s eyes and he screamed and screamed.

  Satisfying.

  He swatted at Zanth, but Zanth had jumped down. Stood before him and jeered, You RUN. You RUN HOME and tell ALL that ZANTH hurt you!

  The boy stumbled away.

  Zanth pranced, tail waving, back to the ten little turtles, all of them scrabbling through the sand as fast as they could go. Birds had watched the fight, didn’t come near, yet. But still hung around, ready to pick off babies. He flicked his tail insolently at them and they dropped their wings, but continued to circle.

  He would not let them eat turtle Fams, no!

  He’d won against both enemies. Won, won, won!

  All his senses had sharpened. Big water now closer than ever, soon might reach his herb patch. No more napping in the sun.

  Smell of small turtles and sand and old egg shell. Bright light of midday warming his fur, beach under his paws soft.

  Life was good.

  Now to be hero.

  He picked the first up and trotted with her to where the sand went damp. A little too far. Put her down, went back and did it again and again and again, spitting sand out after each.

  Kept track of the birds who still waited.

  Finally Zanth got the remaining baby turtle, moved at an angle with her to where the others waited for them, watching the ever-creeping-closer white part of the big, gray water.

  Eee! Eee! EEEeee! the last littlest female squealed.

  And something bit Zanth in his right haunch.

  He flinched, moved, felt muscle tear. Bending around he hissed.

  At a huge turtle that had risen from the sea.

  Mama! the baby in his mouth chortled.

  Mama, mama, mama! they all shrilled in Zanth’s mind.

  Uh-oh.

  Zanth opened his mouth to let the one he carried go and she dived—Flair magic power slowed her plunge and gently placed her in the small pool around the mother where the others paddled.

  FamTurtle, Me saved your babies, he said.

  The big turtle removed her beak from around his upper leg. He faced off with her, refusing to show pain.

  This is not Earth. I came back to help my younglings.

  Her beady gaze fixed on him.

  Me saved babies! he insisted. From birds! From boys!

  He did! He did! they cried.

  I slept off the coast, heard my dearlings stir and hatch. Her head craned. Ten eggs I laid, I have ten live hatchlings in the sea with me. Unheard of.

  Me saved. Me HERO. If he thought about the pain he would sick up herb bits and his last meal. He only had to deal with turtle. FamWoman was Animal Healer, she would mend him, but pain went through him like the encroaching and receding water.

  They stared at each other. One minute. Two.

  I do not like cat on my beach where I lay my eggs. Not even an intelligent cat.

  MY beach.

  No. She snapped her beak a millimeter away from his muzzle. He stood his ground.

  I am land animal. My human FamMan land animal. OUR beach.

  No—

  You have ten hatchlings from ten eggs. Because Me saved. Me and FamMan and FamWoman will always save if We here, he promised.

  He felt a hum from the turtle but she said nothing. The babies swam around and climbed on her, a couple moved back onto the wet sand of the beach.

  More staring and his leg hurt bad. So he puffed himself up, said the magic words, FamWoman is Danith D’Ash, THE Animal Healer of Celta.

  The mother turtle’s eyes widened. The tough, old being nodded. Very well. You are allowed on my beach.

  Zanth sniffed. Good.

  But I remember this beach, the smell of the sand and ocean as they come together here, the consistency of the sand and the kind of shells that make it. I remember. And I’ll remember YOU, too, cat! A threat. And so will my daughters.

  Good, Zanth replied. They remember Me hero!

  The mother eyed him. “You may have one.”

  Zanth stared at her, appalled.

  She glanced down at her hatchlings, looked up and scrutinized Zanth. Even I have heard of the wonderful Danith D’Ash, the Animal Healer. You are a big cat and can hold two in your mouth. You may take two.

  No. He must have heard her wrong.

  I think our meeting was meant. The words came to his mind even more ponderously, dropping like stones into his brain, bringing ripples of turtle thought-stuff he didn’t want to know about.

  She nosed the two smallest—of course the smallest—toward Zanth. These two are likeliest to die in the first years. You take them.

  He sniffed. They smelled bad, worse now that sand and seaweed and stuff covered them. They mighta pissed and pooped, too, though Zanth didn’t know why ‘cause he hadn’t seen them eat anything.

  Hurry up! We don’t have all day. The younglings must have food and seawater and I must take them to the continental shelf.

  She was the one talking and moving so slowly.

  Water lapp
ed over his feet! Zanth hissed and hopped, then the roar and swish and swash of it changed as it hit him, turning into a burble and it slurped.

  All the turtles laughed.

  I will put them on your back. Do NOT drop them as you take them to Danith D’Ash, the Animal Healer.

  Before he could protest, two little beings snuggled into his fur. He wished it was even shorter than it was.

  Fare well, Zanth FamCat. You may call me with your mind, and so may your FamMan and FamWoman. I am Swift-In-The-Sea.

  He doubted that, but he nodded. He wanted to teleport but his hurt leg fuzzed his mind.

  Then he felt the rub of the old female’s head and pain went away and his flesh mended.

  He stared at her.

  She did not look back, gathered her remaining hatchlings around her and disappeared into the great and nasty wet.

  The last of the fight energy dribbled out of him and he decided to walk home.

  He looked up at the birds who still waited. You attack Me and the turtles on Me and you will pay with your lives. He visualized men with blasters shooting the birds. He’d make that happen if they hurt him or turtles.

  With last screechings, birds whirled away.

  Zanth trudged up the animal path. At the top of the dune he looked back at the beach, saw a hint of the mother turtle beyond the white water with bubbles.

  Still had a mental link with her, dammit.

  Me will patrol My beach when here. Guard eggs, he sent to her.

  He thought he saw a foreleg rise and flip at him.

  She must be so grateful.

  He’d saved the day, as usual. Of course.

  Life was good.

  = The End =

  Extra Scene

  EXTRA SCENE

  From Peaches Arrives On Celta

  I write long. I usually went over the accepted wordcount/pages specified in my publishing contracts, and so had to cut scenes. And sometimes I write scenes and get carried away with characters’ backstory, what happened to them in the past, and the ins and outs of Celta, the worldbuilding.

  That happened in Peaches Arrives On Celta. I had a very long scene in the conference room (after the third scene in the story), all about the newly Awakened colonists and how they chose their names, and what Families (First Families) they would become. I loved it, but, even from Peaches’ point of view, and with his asides, I decided it shouldn’t stay in the story.