The sexy female computer voice spoke suddenly: ‘Incoming signal; do you wish to receive?’
‘Yes,’ Charles said, more calmly than he felt.
‘Please confirm,’ the computer asked.
‘Confirmed,’ Charles seethed.
The computer ignored or didn’t perceive the anger in Charles’ voice. Instead it got on with printing out the map that had just been sent.
Charles examined the map. The field was a little to the west of London and a lot closer to the Cattery than seemed possible by coincidence. No wonder the Colonel had thought this might be important. The cats could be planning a mass rescue involving shuttlecraft.
‘Did you receive the map?’ the Colonel asked after a reasonable pause.
‘Yes sir, I think I see the reason for your worry. I assume they have been warned, sir,’ Charles said. He wouldn’t say who over the link.
‘They’re on alert, yes,’ the Colonel confirmed. ‘We think something is likely to happen there very soon, maybe tonight or tomorrow night. That’s why we need to confirm that something landed last night. It would be a quick and easy way to escape, but the farm is the closest area big enough for a shuttle to land on. It’s unfortunate that this had to happen now, when we’re stretched out as it is.’
‘Indeed, Colonel,’ Charles replied. ‘I can’t imagine they’ll return to that area once they realize that we know. But it’s probably best to be prepared.’
‘Good,’ the Colonel replied. ‘Get there, check out the landing area and see if it was a landing area. And be careful not to blow your cover. I’d have sent someone else if I had anyone to spare, but as I said, everyone else is tied up. I’m also sending you a database of information about known shuttle types currently in commission, and those recently decommissioned. If you find evidence of something having landed, work out which shuttle this one correlates with and let me know when you see me. It might help to trace them, if we know what they’re using. I’ll meet you in the usual place at seven tonight.’
There was a click as the Colonel closed his connection.
‘Incoming signal….’ The computer said almost immediately.
‘Yes,’ Charles spat. He didn’t normally get this angry with the computer; he put it down to the fact that he was about to hand three of his best friends over to the authorities. His choice was to get angry or to get depressed, and he couldn’t afford to be depressed when there was work to be done.
‘Please confirm,’ the computer asked, unperturbed.
Charles sighed, ‘Confirmed.’
‘This is a private, eyes-only signal. Please plug in your handheld,’ the computer said slowly. The handheld was an extra layer of security. The data would pass straight through the computer, effectively bypassing it, to the handheld. The information would then only be accessible with a password. If a hacker had gotten past the computer’s firewall, the information wouldn’t be there to steal. ‘Say ‘go’ when you’re ready for data transfer.’
Charles sighed; now he’d have to get out of bed. He removed his miniature, army-issue handheld computer from where it was charging on the small table by the side of his bed and plugged it into the little slot specially designed for it just below the main computer interface.
‘Go,’ he said.
The computer was silent for a minute as it transferred the data. When it was done it said simply, ‘Transfer complete. You may remove your handheld.’
Charles relieved the computer of the handheld and made a quick check of the data that had been sent: a list of tread lengths, distances between treads, number of treads, emissions on takeoff and when cruising, heat on the surface at takeoff and, where pertinent, expected radiation emissions.
He flipped off the handheld and placed it gently on the bed. Then he started to get dressed. He had been looking forward to a nice relaxing day; now he had a lot to do and he wasn’t looking forward to it. Once dressed, he put the handheld into a shirt pocket, first checking to make sure he had turned its power off. It wouldn’t do to burn the battery before he needed it. Then he sat on the bed again and started to eat the breakfast Starlight had brought him, thinking as he did so that it would be the last time she would ever do that for him again. She would never forgive him for taking her in on the first day of it. But he didn’t think he had a lot of choice. He had the feeling that something was in the air and he was going to be busy in the next week or two.
It was nearly eleven before he was ready to leave. He bundled his three pets into the car, leashes around their necks in accordance with the law. Sunshine was the most resistant; Moonbeam seemed to have resigned himself to his fate, while Starlight seemed to have trouble believing he actually meant to go through with it.
He then drove them to the nearest police station in silence. They had been an energetic, happy bunch in the past, but now none of them seemed willing to say a word, as if they were all too busy contemplating their fate.
Charles felt that he had let them down, but he didn’t know what else he could do. He also felt that the three were punishing him by not talking to him, and perhaps there was a little truth in that, though most likely they were too upset to talk even if they wanted to.
Somehow one of the newspapers had gotten word that Charles would be handing his pets over today. There was only one person he could think of that might’ve done that, one person who might want Charles to have even more publicity than he already had: Colonel Davis. Charles walked past the reporter, knocking the microphone, which had been placed under his nose as he entered, out of his way. He wasn’t going to put up with any nonsense from the newspaper on this of all days.
As they reached the counter, Starlight turned to look at him. Tears and anger in her eyes, she said nothing. Her expression said it all. An officer took the leash control box from Charles and led his three closest friends away to the station’s cells to await transportation to the Cattery.
Charles waved sadly as they were taken around a corner and out of sight. This moment of grief was invaded by the newspaper that had filmed every movement, every detail since Charles had entered. Every emotion was captured to show their audience later, every pitying look, every flash of anger or remorse and every tear.
He left the station, feeling as if he might never see his pets again. It was silly; all that was going to happen was they would be tested to see if they had any wild tendencies, and when it was seen that they didn’t, they’d be returned to him.
He climbed back into his vehicle and drove to the outskirts of London to the location of the field as marked on his map. All the while he was thinking of how quiet his apartment would seem now and how he’d have to do all his own chores, at least until they were released again.
If every road between the police station and the field had been empty, the journey would probably have taken Charles a little more than twenty minutes. It wasn’t really that far away. However, the roads in central London were amongst the most congested in Europe. Parts of the journey took twenty minutes just to cover a mile, and that was outside of the rush hour. The journey to the field took just over one and a half hours, and the journey back would be worse because he wouldn’t be able to avoid the rush hour getting back.
As he approached the field in question, he was more than a little irritated to see a patrol of soldiers. One of them was waving him down as he approached, so he stopped the car just short of them. So, the Colonel had no troops to send instead of him?
He opened the driver’s side window and looked at the leader of the soldiers, a young man who couldn’t have been more than eighteen years old, but was already wearing the rank of sergeant. ‘What’s up?’
The sergeant stood gaping for a moment. ‘You’re him, aren’t you? You’re that Slim Dorris guy.’
Charles reddened a little. It was nice to be recognized, even if he felt he didn’t deserve the notoriety. Well, if they were surprised to see him, it was unlikely they’d been warned he was coming. ‘Yes, I am he.’
‘You’re my he
ro. I wish there could be more people in the public as spirited as you. The number of cat-related incidents would be so much lower. If every member of the public was armed and ready to defend themselves, the cats would think twice before they attacked anyone.’
‘Maybe,’ Charles commented. Charles wanted to tell them the truth. He was no heroic member of the public, but a soldier doing as he was told. But if it got around, it would ruin his cover. It would destroy his reputation and probably make him a pariah. The public didn’t soon forgive those who deceived them.
‘You know,’ the soldier continued, ‘I’ve heard rumors that the cats have been using human families to hide. Pretending to be domesticated and hiding as pets, using the night to slip their leashes and hunt.’
‘I’ve heard that too,’ Charles said; he’d be surprised if anyone hadn’t heard, considering the coverage on the newspaper. ‘It sounds pretty improbable, but who can tell the workings of a cat’s mind?’ In fact, thinking about it seriously, it really was improbable, considering the safeguards laid down for those who adopted cats. A family would have to know what their pet really was. Such a family would have to actively let it go hunting, and they would watch it feast when it brought back its kill. Charles began to doubt the truth of the announcement and began to worry about what he’d let his pets in for.
‘I know,’ the soldier said, frowning a little. ‘I found it hard to fathom myself, but that’s what they’re saying at the moment. I’m glad we have upstanding citizens like you around to protect us.’
Charles found that a little humorous. He was supposed to be the civilian, being told that by a soldier. ‘Might I ask what you’re doing here? Why you’ve stopped me?’
The soldier looked over his shoulder as if to make sure no one else was listening. ‘A farmer reported an alien spacecraft landing in one of his fields last night. He took a picture of it, though unfortunately, in his excitement, the picture came out ruined. A nice closeup of his thumb, apparently.’
‘That sounds convenient,’ Charles commented skeptically.
‘That’s what my commanding officer said,’ the soldier replied, grinning. ‘Nevertheless, all such reports must be investigated.’
Charles nodded simply. Time was ticking, but he refused to be impatient. The soldier was just doing his job, even if it was stopping him from getting on with his.
‘So we were making a search of the surrounding woodland just in case, and we found a cat,’ the soldier continued. He was telling Charles a lot more than he should, but it isn’t always easy to stop your tongue running away with itself when you’re talking to your hero.
‘You found a cat? Here, hiding in the woods?’ Charles was surprised. Perhaps the report wasn’t a hoax after all; could the cats be using shuttles?
The soldier nodded. ‘She was alone in a small makeshift encampment, and she was wearing nothing in the way of a disguise that most cats wear. I may even have thought she wanted to get caught.’ He seemed to pause for a minute before adding, ‘She’s in a cell in the Cattery now.’
‘No disguise?’ Charles commented. He was surprised at this, though if she had gotten off the shuttle she may have decided there was no need for a disguise. She’d have assumed she could do her search for the Cattery and then get back and signal the shuttle to return without actually meeting any humans. Then it occurred to him that if the cats were using shuttles, then they’d find the Cattery just by flying over it. That was one reason this area had been designated a no-fly zone, though the excuse had been the protection of the trees, many breeds of which only existed in this forest. Why would they land just one female, and just what were the cats up to?
‘No disguise,’ repeated the soldier, ‘just a small bottle of perfume that we confiscated. It was as if she wanted to get caught. So we’re just sweeping the rest of the nearby woods in case there are more. She could be there to divert us from others, expecting to get rescued when they attack the….’ he stopped as if suddenly aware that he might have already said more than he should. It seemed to occur to him that he had been talking too much anyway. He changed the subject quickly, ‘I’m sorry, you must be very busy, and we’re holding you up.’
‘Attack!’ Charles looked convincingly surprised. ‘Are you from the Cattery, by any chance?’ He had decided that this man was far too loose-tongued to be a member of the Elite. In fact, he should probably report the man, since he was endangering the security of the place, but that might risk his own cover. Besides, he wondered if the soldier would’ve been so talkative if he hadn’t been the great cat killer. He looked about the forest as if looking for it. ‘Is it around here? I’d like to see it sometime.’
‘We’re from the nearby army training camp, sir,’ the soldier replied; this was a safer answer. He then pointed through the tree line, ‘From just over there. We were the closest to the area, so it made sense to send us. We speculated that they saw the army camp from the air and assumed it was the Cattery. Of course, we could be wrong. Who knows the mind of a cat?’
Charles nodded. ‘They could be planning a mass attack on all the army camps in the area,’ he suggested, playing along. For a moment, he thought about the look in Starlight’s eyes as he had handed her leash over to the officer in charge—that look of betrayal. He wondered if he’d ever forget it. Perhaps he could get his cats out of the Cattery without compromising his position.
The soldier nodded. ‘That could be, although I don’t know that the cats are that well-organized. Still, I really must get on with the patrol, and I should let you get back to whatever you were doing. It’s been a pleasure to meet you.’
Charles couldn’t help a smile as he left the patrol. The soldier wanted him to go before he gave away any more secrets. The soldier was probably greatly relieved that he seemed to have gotten away with telling Charles more than he had meant to.
He patted his handheld computer gently. There were a lot of things the soldier had told him that he’d no longer have to check out for himself. Only one figure had been seen leaving the shuttle, and one cat had been caught. It didn’t make sense that the cats would send just one against the Cattery. He was missing something, and it would probably turn out to be right under his nose. He decided to ponder it later; right now he had to find out what sort of shuttle it was that had landed, and maybe that would help explain some of the rest of it.
If he could find it, he’d go and examine the campsite that the cat had been found in too. Maybe he could establish an insoluble link between the two, and maybe he could find out if she really was there as part of an orchestrated plan to attack the nearby Cattery or if she had been up to something else and her proximity to the Cattery was merely a coincidence.
He stopped the car near the field and watched the surrounding woodland for any activity. He couldn’t afford to be seen lurking around in this area, and if the soldiers had been here he needed to make sure they were gone before he started his own investigation.
The field in question was busy growing rapeseed, but there were three clear depressions in the crop on the side closest to the trees that bordered the farm. It was the imprint of a shuttle with three legs, one at the front and two at the back. There were many shuttles with that sort of leg setup; it was a pretty standard setup these days.
He quickly tapped in the command to remove all shuttles with more than three legs and waited; three hundred and seventy-three listings became two hundred and ninety-four. Well, he had dropped seventy-nine from the list. A few more details might help to narrow the field even more.
For the next hour Charles took several measurements, measuring the length of the indentations and the distances between them and using that information to whittle down the list on his handheld. For some reason, though, when he inputted the numbers, the list he got back contained no candidates.
Something was obviously wrong. He would have to double check everything. So he set to measuring everything again. The measurements were the same as they had been the first time, and when he retyped them i
nto the handheld, double checking that he was keying the numbers correctly, he still got no candidates back.
His head began to complain with a gentle throb that this was getting him nowhere. He ignored it for now. He had something in the car that would settle it before he left for home. For now he had to check each of the possible shuttles in turn personally just in case, looking for something that might at least be close to the measurements that he had taken.
There was nothing. Sometimes one of the measurements got close, but the others were always a long way off. Charles placed the shuttles with any close measurements into a new file on the handheld. There were thirty-four shuttles in the file when he finished his search.
Next, from his car he got a Geiger counter and planted it in the earth at what should be the rear of where the shuttle had landed and switched it on. Nothing. Well, there was an ambient radiation that told him the thing was working, but that was it. The shuttle had produced no radiation.
He went back to the list of thirty-four and again checked each of the shuttles in turn. Perhaps he had missed something. But in each case, where one item matched, nothing else did. Whatever the shuttle was, it simply wasn’t listed, and that meant it had to be a mongrel. The cats had put together a mix of two or three shuttles to make one that worked. The parts would be easy enough to get, but Charles couldn’t believe they would have the know-how to put something like that together.
He shook his head at the figures and turned the handheld off. The Colonel wouldn’t like this. He returned to his car with the samples and looked back over his shoulder. He didn’t like to leave just like that. He had come here to find out which model of shuttle had landed and he still didn’t know. Well, the Colonel would have people that would make better use of the information than he could.
Then he noticed that there were some damaged plants near one side of the imprints and more leading away from the shuttle towards the forest, spaced like footprints. The soldiers had told him that they had caught the cat in a clearing. He was no tracker; he’d have no idea if he were following a cat or a soldier until he found the owner of the tracks. Nevertheless, these tracks might lead him to the clearing and he very much wanted to have a look at that. He took a small metal detector from the car. He might need it if the cat had hidden something in the clearing.
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