turningpoint

by Lisanne Norman

  "Morning, Carrie," Jack said, stamping the snow off his boots. "I hear you've got an interesting patient for me." He gave her a calculating glance as he took off his parka and gloves, handing them to Richard before moving over to examine her.

  Jack was a short man, almost on the tubby side, with a thatch of thick gray-brown hair crowning a face resembling that of a middle-aged faun.

  "I must admit I didn't expect to find you awake yet, let alone running a rescue mission," he said, taking her by the wrist to check her pulse. "But then, what should I expect of someone with your recuperative powers? Trying to sedate you is like felling an elephant, and you still manage to come round far too soon! How do you feel?"

  "Fine," she said absently, her attention obviously not on him.

  "I'll check your hands before I leave, my dear. You've got the bandages soaking wet."

  He turned to look at the form draped across the table.

  "A forest cat, eh? I've never had the chance to examine one of these beasties before. Isn't he a darker color than usual?" His brown eyes twinkled briefly at her before he bent his head and began examining Kusac thoroughly.

  "They come in all colors," replied Carrie, clumsily trying to move her bowls and cloths out of his way. "Sorry to bother you, Jack, but he needed help."

  "No bother at all," he replied, "provided that you return to bed after I've finished. I suppose asking you to go now is out of the question?"

  Carrie ignored his sarcasm. "Can you help him, Jack? I think he might have a fever, too. He's panting and he feels very warm."

  "We should be able to do something for him," Jack said, probing the livid wound gently with his fingers. "I'll have to lance that gash though. The poisoning is certainly causing the fever. Pass me over some of that hot water and I'll get started."

  Two hours later, Carrie sat looking down at Kusac, waiting for him to come round. Jack had not wanted to risk an anesthetic of any kind, but luckily their patient had solved the problem by drifting off into unconsciousness.

  The injury had been quite deep and there had been a small piece of metal embedded in it. Jack had cleaned the wound thoroughly, but left it open to the air.

  "If he's like Terrestrial cats, when he's feeling better, he'll want to lick the wound himself. Frankly, that's the best thing he could do," said Jack, preparing a syringe. "I'm giving him a hefty dose of antibiotics to help break the fever, but there's a risk that the drugs might react unfavorably with his metabolism. However, in his present weakened condition, we don't have a choice. If I don't try something, he'll die."

  "He'll live," Carrie said confidently. "He's fought the poison this long, he won't give up now. He's too much of a fighter. I have a feeling he won't want to lick the wound, though."

  "Another one of your intuitions?" Jack asked as he busied himself taking blood and tissue samples from his patient. "Now don't get upset," he added hurriedly, catching her frown. "I'm not doubting you. You've got a way with the animals on Keiss. You really are wasted here at the Inn, you know. You'd make a grand assistant for me when I go on one of my field trips. If you want, I'll have another try at asking your father to let you come with me when you're better."

  Carrie sighed. "I think we'll be out of luck, Jack. Father seems to think women are more suited to the domestic role than anything intellectual."

  "We can but try," he said, packing his samples away and going over to the sink to wash his hands.

  "Ah, the luxury of hot running water," he sighed, letting the water course over his hands for a moment or two. "Half my problems in Valleytown would be solved if every house had an adequate supply of hot and cold water," he said, drying his hands and returning to the table. "I wonder if we'll ever have anything more than a subsistence level of existence."

  "We will, if we can get rid of the Valtegans and if our second wave ship arrives safely," said Carrie angrily, tears springing to her eyes. "And if Father actually helped the guerrillas, rather than..."

  "Hush, Carrie," said Jack, enveloping her in his arms and hugging her tightly. "Let's not open that old argument again. Your father does a good job leading the civil disobedience, and that's risky enough given the Aliens we're dealing with. Not everyone can pull up roots and hightail it out to the forest to be a rebel, you know. He's had you and your sister to think of. It's not so clear-cut when you've got a family."

  "Oh, Jack," she said, tears running down her face, "why did it have to be Elise? Why did they have to catch her?"

  "That's it, love," he said, patting her back awkwardly as she began to cry. "You let it out. Have a good cry, it'll help."

  * * *

  With Jack away tackling her father, and Richard out back trying to rig up something for Kusac to sleep in, Carrie was alone for the moment.

  Exhaustion was beginning to creep up on her. Her ribs had begun to ache as had her hands, but the latter could be due to Jack's rebandaging them. From the glimpse she'd gotten of them before Jack had firmly blocked her view, it was clear that she'd lost most, if not all, of her fingernails and had a couple of broken fingers as well.

  He'd also insisted on giving her another injection for the pain, despite the fact that she'd assured him she was able to block most of it out. He had never trusted her strange abilities. They weren't something he could study under his microscope, so he preferred to take no chances and had always treated both her and her sister with conventional medical remedies.

  She flexed her hands, aware of a small amount of pain. Well, she'd certainly never play the violin, not that she had ever wanted to! Feeling cold, she pulled her coat more closely around herself and carefully put her hands in her pockets. She winced as something poked into her injured left hand.

  With difficulty, she caught the object between her fingers and pulled it out. It was the piece of metal that Jack had taken out of the cat's leg.

  A couple of centimeters long and irregular in shape, it was smooth on one side, dimpled on the other. Where had she seen its like before? Stranger still was how it had come to be in the cat's leg. They had hardly any refined metals yet on Keiss.

  Their colony ship, the first wave, was mainly agricultural, with only minimal mining and blacksmithing personnel on board. The second wave would have a greater percentage of manufacturing skills among its personnel, the miners, smelters, and so on as well as a reasonable level of technology. The hope had been that their skills would be supported by their predecessors.

  The only metals on the planet this sophisticated either came from the remains of the Terran Mothership which had landed at the site they called Seaport, or from something belonging to the Valtegans.

  A moan from her patient drew her attention back to Kusac. Returning the sliver to her pocket, she leaned forward to stroke his head. He was making the most peculiar noises, almost as if he was trying to talk.

  He became quiet and still, his eyelids flickering open. Carrie found herself staring again into the golden yellow eyes. Almost hypnotically, they held her gaze until voices in the hall broke the spell.

  "It's exactly what she needs, Peter," Jack was saying. "Something to occupy her and take her mind off what's happened. Take my advice and go along with whatever scheme she suggests. If looking after a creature as ill as he is will keep her in her bed, I'd go for it."

  Carrie grinned slightly. Trust him to find an angle that would appeal to her father. Jack was almost as bad as him, though, the way he always fussed over her— and Elise. Another wave of desperate loss swept through her and tears stung her eyes.

  The door opened and her father came in, followed by Jack and Richard.

  In appearance her father and Richard were alike, but on him the dark beard and mustache— longer and bushier— were beginning to turn brindle. Though the years may have lightened his hair, they had not thickened the lean frame that all his offspring seemed to have inherited.

  "Well, my girl," he said, walking over to the table. "Let's have a look at this latest lame duck of yours."

  "A forest c
at? He's some size, isn't he? I haven't seen one as large before." Her father reached out gingerly to pat the animal. "He isn't likely to bite, is he?" he asked, his hand poised in midair.

  "No," replied Carrie, putting a hand possessively on Kusac's head. "He's quite friendly."

  Her father hesitated. "You know he's too old to tame, Carrie. A mature wild animal won't take kindly to captivity, nor can they ever be completely trusted."

  "I know, Dad. I only want to give him a chance for his leg to heal, then I'll set him free."

  "Very well. Get Richard to clear some space for him in the barn," he said, giving Kusac a friendly but cautious pat on the side.

  As he did so, Kusac turned his head to look up at him, licking the man gently on the hand.

  "Well, he seems very friendly," he said, mollified, before turning to look at his daughter. "What's wrong?" he asked, seeing her frown.

  "If Kusac sleeps in the barn, the cold could kill him. There's no way to heat that place," she objected.

  "You aren't seriously suggesting we bring a wild animal that size into the house!" her father exclaimed. "He could turn on you without warning. I'm sorry, but I'm not prepared to let you risk our lives. It's out of the question."

  "Then I'll sleep in the barn, too."

  "You'll do no such thing! You're far too badly injured to be anywhere but in bed now. There's no question of you sleeping in the barn."

  "If it's too cold for me, then it's too cold for Kusac," Carrie interrupted calmly. "Kusac sleeps with me, either in the house or in the barn, I don't care which."

  "For goodness sake, grow up, Carrie! We're talking about a wild animal, not some orphaned lamb!" Her father's angry voice filled the room.

  Richard sighed and turned his back on them. He hated rows. Funny, but he'd always seen Elise as the argumentative one. It was unlike Carrie to cross their father like this.

  "How much older do I have to be, Dad?" Carrie asked quietly. "I'm hardly a child now, and I do know what I'm doing."

  "At twenty-three most girls are well and truly married," her father grumbled. "If you had a house to run, you wouldn't have time to bring in useless stray animals. I think it's high time I arranged a marriage for you since you don't seem capable of choosing a partner from among the young men in Valleytown."

  "Stop ducking the issue, Dad. The barn or the house, which is it to be?" insisted Carrie.

  "Jack? You'll back me up on this, won't you?"

  "Me?" said the doctor, pausing as he put on his coat. "I don't want to be involved in a family argument, Peter. I will say this, though. The cat is too weak to be a danger to anyone at present, and living in a cold barn will certainly kill him."

  Her father glanced from one to the other. "Oh, very well," he said, exasperated. "Have it your own way. You've obviously got it all organized between the two of you. But as soon as he's recovered enough to be moved, out to the barn he goes!"

  "Good day to you, Jack!"

  With that he stamped out of the kitchen, back to work with his beloved wines.

  "Thanks, Jack," said Carrie, trying to stand.

  "It was nothing, but your Dad has a point, you know. Our friend could turn nasty at any time."

  "Richard, you make some kind of cage to put Kusac in at night; and you, Carrie, you'll keep your promise to me by getting back up to bed before you collapse!" he said, accepting his gloves from Richard.

  "By the way, how did you come by the name? Kusac, eh? Not bad, it rather suits him. Well, I must be off. I'll call back to see you both in a couple of days. If you need me, you know where I am."

  "Just keep him warm and try to find something light that he'll eat. Soup or something like that. No meat for the time being, and the same for you, young lady," he said, waggling an admonishing finger in her direction as he followed her brother out through the taproom.

  "Good-bye Jack, and thanks again," Carrie said.

  Once they had gone, she ambled over to the stove and began to ladle some soup into a bowl for Kusac. It was a strange name, now she came to think of it. It sounded unfamiliar, yet it did suit him. She carried the bowl back over to him and set it down near his head.

  The cat looked up at her, giving her hand a quick lick before raising himself on his front paws to lap the soup. Carrie smiled. His tongue tickled. There was an almost gentle roughness to it. She knew he wouldn't harm anyone, it wasn't in his nature.

  As he ate, she pulled up a chair and watched him. His amber eyes never left hers until he lay down, his hunger satisfied for the first time in five days.

  With a sigh, Kusac pillowed his head against her hands and closed his eyes. Though he could not yet understand the language of these people, he understood Carrie's thoughts completely. It was to his advantage that they thought he was a forest cat; no one could then betray him, and he would probably learn much more that would be denied to him as an Alien.

  Besides, it had been a surprise for him to find two sentient species on this planet, so how much worse would it be for Carrie's people who had only known the repression of the Others? The Valtegans, he corrected himself, drifting off into a contented sleep.

  Carrie felt her shoulder being shaken roughly. Looking blearily up at her brother, she pulled her hands carefully from underneath Kusac and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

  "What is it, Richard?" she mumbled.

  "The Valtegans are searching all the houses. Dad wants you and the cat upstairs out of the way."

  "All right," said Carrie, getting stiffly to her feet. "Have you finished Kusac's bed?"

  "It's in your room," he replied, reaching out to help her as she staggered away from the table. "I don't know how you're going to manage to nurse our friend here when you're nowhere near fit yourself."

  "I'm fine, Richard," she said, pulling away from him. "I'm tired, that's all."

  "No, you're not, but I'm not going to argue with you about it. Let's get you and this character settled down before the Valtegans get here."

  "What are they looking for this time?" asked Carrie as Richard lifted the sleepy Kusac.

  "I'm not exactly sure," he said, following her upstairs. "But what is even stranger, I don't think the Valtegans know either."

  "Five days ago there was a full-scale panic on. The sky was buzzing with aircars and scouters, all centered over the forest and hills behind us. Not long afterward, I saw something white falling toward the ridge. It could have been anything, a scouter in trouble, even a small spacecraft."

  He fell silent, waiting for his sister to open the bedroom door. When she did, he went in and carefully laid Kusac down on the pile of rugs he'd arranged in a large wooden box on Elise's bed.

  Carrie sat down on her own bed. "Well?" she prompted. "What do you think it was?"

  Richard shook his head. "I don't know, but the Valtegans are doing a head count as well as searching every house. They want to know if we've seen any strangers."

  "Could it have been a craft from Earth?" Carrie asked bleakly, staring at her clenched hands without seeing them.

  "Earth doesn't know about our situation, Carrie. We haven't been able to get a message out to them. Even if we could, it would take years to reach them, and equally long for them to come to our aid," her brother replied, taking her hands in his and giving them a comforting pat. "And no one could have helped Elise."

  "What does Dad think?" she asked, her voice still tense.

  "He says it couldn't be anything to do with the second wave colonists. Their ship isn't due to reach midpoint for another two months yet. In fact, it can't be from Earth at all. That only leaves two realistic possibilities."

  "A Valtegan in trouble, possibly a renegade from the hospital, or a satellite crashing," said Carrie, looking at him inquiringly, her interest fully caught.

  "It wasn't a meteorite, that's for sure. The other possibility I had in mind was that the craft was Alien to both us and the Valtegans."

  Carrie wrinkled her face in surprise, her eyebrows disappearing under her fringe.
>
  "You have to be kidding, Richard. An Alien craft?"

  "Why not?" he countered, letting go of her bandaged hands and beginning to pace the room. "No one believed in Aliens until the Valtegans arrived. If there are two species in the galaxy, why not three or even more? Who are the Valtegans fighting, if not other Aliens?" He paused by the window. "Dad thinks it's a viable possibility, and you can't escape the fact that the Valtegans are searching for several strangers," he said forcefully. "They'd hardly ask us if the strangers were their own people! They aren't from this colony, and they can't be from Earth. There is only one other alternative— more Aliens."

  "Don't laugh," he said irritably, looking away from her. "It isn't that ridiculous an idea." He stared out of the window for almost a minute before it penetrated that he was watching a patrol of Valtegan soldiers making their way across the main street to the Inn.