CatFantastic

  "Citrus? Well, Clark, we better drive out to Baily's groves with Worl in the morning."

  "Meow, meoow," Clark replied. I took it to mean he agreed.

  I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew I woke up to see the little gray alien holding Clark and both of them staring down at me while sunshine filtered through the front window.

  "Shockie, you wake now. Help find the ba k'rah," Worl said. Clark wiggled free and jumped down.

  I rubbed the sleep from my eyes as memories of yesterday crashed over my mind, waves of a receding dream. Clark poked his furry head under my free hand and I absently patted him.

  "Okay, I'm getting up, but before we leave the house we need to disguise you, Worl. Even I can't run around the Valley with a little gray spaceman."

  "Meow, meeoow," Clark chimed in, then darted off into the bedroom. I followed quite willingly, though my head felt woozy and my mouth full of cotton. I detoured into the bath to freshen up. When I came back out, Clark was sitting upon a big box wrapped in bright birthday paper. He waved his tail and stretched.

  "Get down, Clark. You'll ruin the bow on Sue's present," I scolded, scooping the cat off his perch. He kneaded my arm with his claws, not enough to hurt, but enough to halt my action. "Oh, yes!" I cried, as Wort stepped inside the room. "The boots and jeans I bought my niece might work—Sue is just about Worl's size." I hugged Clark tightly. He squirmed in protest, so I let him go as I whispered, "Clark, you're the smartest cat on Earth!"

  I changed my own clothes, then helped Wort into Sue's birthday blue jeans and tooled leather boots. Not too bad. I found an old blue workshirt of mine and Wort put it on. We rolled the sleeves up and it still looked big, but that's the fashion for kids, anyway. Worl's large head fit fine in a worn Stetson hat I'd stashed in a corner of my closet. I added a pair of sunglasses and stepped back to view the alien,

  "You'll do from a distance. We just can't let anyone see you up close. Okay?"

  "Okay, Shockie," Wort replied, playing with his hat, tipping the brim up and down in front of the dresser mirror. Clark brushed against my legs and meowed at us. "Yes, Clairk Kendt," Wort added. "We go find the ba k'rah now."

  Worl, Clark, and I piled into my car. I showed Worl how to fasten his seatbelt and he held Clark on his lap. Usually Clark preferred to cringe on the floorboard while riding, but this morning he acted eager to sit up and look out. Worl had insisted on wearing his bulky belt under the shirt I loaned him. Now he shifted Clark off his lap so he could reach a cone-shaped metallic object and pull it out from his belt. He pressed the top of the cone and it started bleeping softly, glowing red to pink.

  "What's that?" I asked, starting the car.

  "Finder. Hit will tell us where to seek the ba k'rah." Clark pressed his nose against the finder, then jerked back as if burned. "Naughty, Clairk Kendt," Worl said, shaking his head, looking rather comical in his Stetson and sunglasses. The alien spun his cone in a circle, pointing north, and cried, "That a-way, Shockie!" The finder throbbed lavender. I hit the gas pedal as we turned north on the highway. We sped past citrus groves and mesquite scrub and I noticed the finder deepen in color, the lavender now closer to purple. Suddenly it started screaming.

  I wanted to cover my ears but kept my hands on the wheel while I pulled the car off to the side of the road. Wort bounced excitedly, his free hand dancing over the seatbelt until it clicked open to release him.

  "Turn that finder off," I cried. He obeyed. I think even Clark looked relieved. I hope I never hear such a noise again.

  "There, there!" Worl squealed, pointing to an orange grove on our right. "The ba k'rah! Flying! See?" A giant bird, shimmering black except for a bloodred curved beak, hovered above the trees.

  "Look at that wingspan," I gasped, wondering if I'd been transported into some Japanese horror movie. "It's a monster." I gazed down at little Worl. "How can you capture that huge creature?"

  He patted his belt. "My tanglefield. I hef hit inside here." He tugged one large bump and off came a fabric cylinder. "Jest let me out of you ship and I use hit."

  I leaned over and opened his door for him. He hopped out, Clark following. I got out my side and rushed around to them.

  Wort muttered something, grasped the tanglefield in his right hand, rotating his entire arm until I heard a bzz-bzz-bzzing. A pale lavender energy field ballooned up before collapsing back into its source.

  "Big trouble, big trouble!" Worl yelled, banging the tanglefield against his other hand. Another try brought the same result. With dire alien mutterings, Worl removed a tool pack from his belt and set to work on the malfunctioning tanglefield. Just then Clark began meowing loudly and in the distance I noticed the gleam of an approaching vehicle. An engine roared closer as a patrol car zoomed into sight.

  "Quick, Worl, get into the car. Stay down and don't speak. We'll try to pass you off as my nephew." The little alien, still fumbling with his equipment, climbed back into my car and bent intently over his task. Clark stayed by me, weaving between my legs as if he, too, felt nervous.

  The patrol car slowed and my heart gave a sudden leap as I recognized Mike Harris, the blond deputy. "Howdy, Miss Carlson." He climbed out and scanned the roadside. My gaze followed his. With mixed emotions I noticed the bird was no longer in sight. "Trouble, ma'am?"

  "No," I said, shaking my head. "Mike, please call me Jackie."

  He grinned. I smiled back but he soon turned toward my car. "What're you doing out here, Jackie?"

  "Just taking my nephew for a drive. He's, ah, visiting from Houston." Mike walked over to my car and I managed to squeeze between him and the window. "Er, Willy is real shy. Maybe you'd better talk to him another time—after he's been around here longer. Okay, Mike?"

  Mike stared at me funny, but at least he moved away from my car and back toward his own vehicle. I walked along with him. He stopped and turned to me, his blue gaze raking over me, as if sizing up a robbery suspect. I could feel a blush burning my cheeks, but returned his stare the best I could.

  "Jackie, I've got to talk to somebody and you ought to understand. I mean, writing science fiction stories and all …" He hushed and gazed helplessly at me.

  "What is it, Mike?" I asked, aware of Clark standing guard duty beside my car and hoping Worl would stay quiet.

  "I saw something last night. I can't say anything—I might lose my job. Nobody would believe me. They'd think I was drunk. But after I met you last night, I started thinking that maybe you'd understand. You'd believe me if I said I saw a flying saucer, wouldn't you?" he pleaded.

  I blinked up at him in surprise, "Why didn't you tell me this last night?"

  He shrugged his broad shoulders. "Do you believe I saw a UFO, Jackie?"

  "Yes. Of course." Clark meowed and I hastily added, "Mike, I've got things to do. Can we talk later?"

  Just then Worl let out a yelp, Clark growled and a huge dark shadow glided over us. I glanced up to see the ba k'rah swoop above the orchard, orange-laden branches clutched in gigantic talons.

  Worl scrambled out of the car, Mike drew his gun and took aim at the ba k'rah as Clark leaped up into the air, latching claws against Mike's upraised arm just as he fired. The shot went wild, hitting a tree trunk to the right of us with a sharp crack.

  Mike swore. Clark landed with a thunk, meowing as if struck, and Worl hopped around chattering in his alien language until his hat bounced off. Mike paled, his mouth dropping open, as he gaped at Worl's gray alien head. Then the tall, strong deputy sheriff of West Grove swayed back to lean against his patrol car in a swoon.

  "Worl, put your hat on!" I ordered, half-crazed myself. "The bird's getting away. Now what do we do?"

  Clark jumped into my car and meowed at Worl. Worl climbed through the open door beside my cat, saying, "Shockie, Clairk Kendt is right, we must go in you ship after the ba k'rah."

  "What about the deputy?" I asked, certain Mike was in shock.

  The cat meowed and Worl said, "Clark thinks your lawman es hokay, but we hef
to go before the ba k'rah makes a nest."

  "Nest?" I repeated, wondering where in this part of Texas could a bird that big build a nest. "But I can't leave Mike like this."

  "Go now!" Worl pressed his lipless mouth shut so tightly it disappeared. Then he added, "A ba k'rah alone desires to procreate. No need for a mate. Hurry!"

  I drove about half a mile before I saw Mike's patrol car in the rearview mirror, lights flashing. Well, at least he wasn't still frozen in shock, I decided, ignoring him as we swerved off the highway onto a dirt track leading to a water tower. It stood, graffitti-scrawled silver, looking like a flying saucer perched upon spindly tall legs. Settled magnificently atop the tower loomed the giant, shiny black bird.

  I braked the car and we spilled out, Mike's patrol car skidding to a halt beside us. "You didn't call for reinforcements, I hope?" I snapped at him.

  "Heck, no," he drawled. "What would I say? Come help me chase down a girl, her cat, and a spaceman dressed like Roy Rogers?"

  "All I want is to get that bird back for Worl," I said, trying to calm my breathing. "It escaped his ship and he must recapture it."

  "Shess!" Worl cried, bobbing his large gray head. "Hef to capture the ba k'rah before eggs hatch. Then big trouble. Lots of baby ba k'rah eat all the citrus."

  "Eggs?" I gazed up at the huge flapping monster. "Why, they'd wipe out all the groves in the Rio Grande Valley."

  "On Earth," Worl added seriously. "What to do? My tanglefield not extend high enough. Not working right. Big trouble!"

  Clark meowed, brushed against my legs, then darted off toward the tower. "Clairk Kendt," Worl called, trotting after the cat. He stooped, resting one thin hand on Clark's back, murmured a few moments, then trotted back to us.

  "What, does the spaceman talk to your cat?" Mike asked me.

  "I guess so. At first I thought it was silly, but look!" I pointed to the tower as my cat scaled it, climbing steadily higher, using the rungs and bracings to work his way around to the rear of the tower as he climbed. Just as if he'd been instructed. "Clark must be planning something," I said.

  "Cats don't plan things," Mike scoffed.

  "Not usually," I retorted. "But aliens don't usually fall out of trees on me and UFOs don't usually land in my yard, either."

  "What's the cat going to do?" Mike asked Worl, a bit of awe in his deep voice as he spoke to the little alien.

  "Try to get the ba k'rah down low, so I can snare it in my tanglefield. Must fly almost to ground. Clairk can do hit."

  Mike wiped his forehead. "Nobody's ever gonna believe this."

  "So we won't tell. Right?" I wouldn't mind sharing a secret with the handsome deputy. Besides, this could write up into a great plot for my next novel.

  My heart in my throat, I watched Clark climb the rungs leading to the top of the tower. If he fell…. Clark wailed a harsh meow, giant wings flapped like thunder, then the bird dived off the tower as if devils were chasing it. There on the bird's back with claws dug into glistening black feathers, perched Clark Kent, supercat himself, driving the ba k'rah within range of Worl's damaged field. Worl aimed just as Clark leaped free, letting the field capture the huge bird. Clark landed on his feet in a pile of weeds and grass with a soft thump.

  I ran to my cat, scooping him into my arms, cooing into his ear and stroking his silky fur. "You did it," I whispered, filled with awed pride.

  "What a cat!" rumbled Mike, rushing to my side. "Who'd have thought it?"

  Worl squirted a spray into the bird's face and it staggered forward, then fell still. "Thiss mek ba k'rah sleep."

  "How will we get the ba k'rah back to my place?" I asked in dismay, realizing we couldn't take at anywhere in my small hatchback.

  "Hit stay here. I stay also. The ship come here after dark to take us, the nest, and eggs. Clairk Kendt says many eggs are up there." Worl gestured at the top of the water tower. "Will sell eggs. Make lots of credit. No trouble."

  Clark purred, adjusting his head so I could scratch his ears. "Do you really communicate with Clark?" I asked Worl.

  "Shess." Worl took off the dark sunglasses to expose his big luminious eyes. "I want to take Clairk home with me to Pra."

  Mike just stood staring at Worl, studying the newly revealed eyes. Clark stopped purring. I felt very sad, abandoned, and thought about how empty my house would be without him. "It's—it's Clark's decision," I stammered.

  Worl took Clark from my arms and spoke to him in clicks, hisses, and what sounded like meows instead of words. Clark meowed several times as if responding. I wished I understood cat language.

  "Clairk Kendt will stay with you, Shockie," Worl replied, handing my cat back to me.

  Clark pressed his nose against my chin and suddenly I began to laugh to hide a rush of tears filling my eyes. "Maybe I should change my. name to Lois Lane?" I giggled into Clark's fur.

  Mike leaned his head back and roared with laughter. We laughed until we both had tears spilling down our cheeks and the alien shook his head in wonderment at us.

  "You must go," he said. "If the ship comes, my commander will see I hef break many rules. Big trouble. Go home now, and make Worl happy, too."

  I kissed my little alien friend good-bye and Clark let Worl pet him. Then Clark and I got into my car, Mike got in his and we drove home caravan style.

  That night, Mike sat on my back porch next to me and Clark curled up on my lap. Together we watched the sky. Spinning bands of colored light hovered in the distance above the water tower, then zoomed off into space, disappearing among the stars, leaving us with memories and a secret to share forevermore.

  "Meow meow," said Clark.

  "You're right, we will miss Worl," I replied in agreement.

  Clark closed his dark-ringed green-gold eyes and purred with throaty contentment.

  "What a super cat!" Mike said with pride.

  He slid an arm around my shoulder, pulling me close, as I kept stroking my cat and felt like purring myself.

  Noble Warrior

  by Andre Norton

  Emmy squinted at the stitch she had just put in the handkerchief. Ivy had curtained almost half of the window, to leave the room in greenish gloom. Too long, she would have to pick it out. On such a grayish day she wanted a candle. Only even to think of that must be a sin. Miss Wyker was very quick to sniff outsins. Emmy squinted harder. It was awfully easy to sin when one was around Miss Wyker.

  Not for the first or not even the hundredth time she puzzled as to why Great-Aunt Amelie had asked Miss Wyker to Hob's Green. Who could be ill without feeling worse to see about that long narrow face with the closed buttonhole of a mouth, and mean little eyes on either side of a long, long nose. Elephant nose! Emmy's hands were still while she thought of elephants, big as Jasper's cottage. Father said that they had great seats large enough to hold several men strapped on their backs and one rode them so to go tiger hunting.

  She rubbed her hand across her aching forehead as she thought of father. If he were here, he would send old Wyker packing.

  Emmy ran a tongue tip over her lips. She was thirsty-but to leave her task to even get a drink of water might get her into trouble. She gave an impatient jerk and her thread broke. Before she could worry about that, sounds from the graveled drive which ran beyond the window brought her up on her knees to look out. Hardly anyone now used the front entrance drive. This was the trap from the inn, with Jeb. Beside him sat a stranger, a small man with a bushy brown beard.

  The trap came to a halt and the small man climbed down from the seat. Jeb handed down a big basket to the man who gave him a short nod before disappearing under the overhang of the doorway. Emmy dropped her sewing on the window seat to run across the room as the knocker sounded. She was cautious about edging open the door of the sitting room to give herself just a crack to see through.

  The knocker sounded three times before Jennie the housemaid hurried by, patting down her cap ribbons and looking all a-twitter. It had been so long since anyone had been so bold as to use the
knocker. Nobody but Dr. Riggs ever came that way any more, and he only in the morning.

  Emmy heard a deep voice, but she could not quite make out the words. Then, as quick as if it were meant as an answer, there sounded a strange cry. Emmy jumped, the door opened a good bit wider than was wise.

  At least she could see Jennie show the visitor to the library where Dr. Riggs was always escorted by Miss Wyker to have a ceremonial glass of claret when his visit to his patient was over. The stranger had taken the covered basket with him.

  Jennie went hurrying up the stairs to get Miss Wyker. To speed her along sounded another of those wailing cries.

  Emmy pulled the door nearer shut, but her curiosity was fully aroused. Who had come visiting and why? And whatever could be in that basket?

  She heard the determined tread of Miss Wyker and saw a stiff back covered with the ugliest of gray dresses also disappear into the parlor. Should she try to cross the hall in hope of seeing more of the visitor? She was so tired of one day being like another-all as gray as Miss Wyker's dress-that this was all very exciting. Before she had quite made up her mind, Jennie came in a hurry, probably called by the bell. She stood just within the library door, then backed out to head for the morning room where Emmy had been isolated for numberless dull hours of the day since Great-Aunt had taken ill.

  "You-Miss Emmy," Jennie was breathless as she usually was when Miss Wyker gave orders. "They want to see you-right now- over there-" she jerked a thumb toward the library.

  Emmy was across the hall and into the room before Jennie had disappeared back down the hall. As she came in, there sounded once more that startling cry. It had come from the big covered basket which was rocking a little back and forth where it stood on the floor.

  "This is the child-" Miss Wyker's sharp voice was plainly disapproving.

  The brown-bearded man looked down at Emmy. A big grin split that beard in the middle.

  "So-you be th' Cap'n's little maid, be you? Must have grown a sight since he was last a-seein' you. Tol' it as how you was a mite younger."