The Sarran Plague (The Sarrans Book 1)

by A. C. Katt

  Tigger did not adjust well to confinement.

  Except for the one trip to the vet in his carrier (Mama had warned him that would happen if he threw his lot in with the humans) he had no limits except for those he imposed on himself. His feral mother had been hit by a car when he was three months old. She had been with Tigger and his litter mates long enough to teach them how to hunt and to use their special feline senses. He had enough time in the wild to become an efficient hunter. But Mama had died and that was what happened to cats that were feral. Anya had gotten him from the shelter a week after he arrived. She was responsible for taking him out of the cage he hated. He had his Anya, which was enough. Once in his new home, he quickly learned to unlatch windows and open doors. When Anya wasn’t around, he roamed. He protected Anya and most of the building.

  He loved her dearly as she loved him, but as a human, she had no idea how much she actually received in return. Tigger was the reason she never saw a rat, mouse, or roach in her small space. He tried as best he could to keep her from any danger he sensed either coming or at hand. On Independence Day he had physically thrown himself at her to try and prevent her from leaving the apartment. Anya had gently put him down and sternly told him she had to go to work. He yowled, scratched the wall, even broke a few of her knickknacks. She had still left, although somewhat later than she wanted, and just as he had expected, she didn’t return.

  Tigger was a very intelligent cat. He had listened to the reports on the televisions and radios he could hear from the window in the kitchen that looked out over the airshaft. He heard about the sickness and he knew Anya was a healer. Tigger had enough food. Anya stored the food in a covered plastic pail in the kitchen and Tigger could flip the lid. Someone came from the hospital to change his box and give him fresh water. If they didn’t, water was always available from the toilet. He missed his canned food, but mostly he missed Anya. He paced the apartment, ate, drank and paced some more. He didn’t roam, couldn’t take the chance to miss her if she stopped at home. He slept, but not the deep good sleep he slept on Anya’s lap. He took catnaps, with one eye open and an ear cocked, listening for her step, her key in the door lock. Fourteen days after she left, he just knew. Anya had the sickness. Most cats were fond of their human companions, but Tigger loved Anya fiercely. She took him out of that cage and gave him love. That day, the day he realized Anya wasn’t coming home, was the last day he remembered until he woke up here.

  Anya’s clothing, music, and some knickknacks were in the containers. He knew that by smell. Tigger had pried the lids from several of them out of boredom. From the time he woke up in this new place, he felt the subsonic buzz that told him he was in motion. But the motion was different from the forward drive and swing of the bus he and Anya rode to the vet. The buzz, along with his acute feline hearing and other senses told him that he was a long way from home. What was worse, there was no fresh Anya smell. Different humans came in and out on a regular schedule to change the box and give him fresh water and kibble. None of them smelled like Anya and he was getting agitated.

  Tigger had done something that few felines did with their human companions. He had linked with Anya. Anya was a good human. She gave freely of herself to Tigger and to other humans. It hadn’t taken Tigger long to decide to give feline link to Anya. Very few humans received the link and of those who did, none but those with psi training knew they had it. Psi was not an ability that the humans cultivated. Maybe that would change, but it wasn’t Tigger’s concern. Tigger watched over Anya through the link. It was through the link he realized she had fallen ill, but now, somehow, the link was blocked. It wasn’t broken; Anya was still alive, and he didn’t believe she was far away. That would feel different. No, Tigger knew the link had been blocked for some reason, and he was determined to find out who was capable of blocking the link and why.

  Tigger tried to read the humans who fed him and changed his box, but got nothing. It was weird; they had psi but were locked. Most humans were psi deaf and blind and were unable to form or detect a psi link. Most cats were psi deaf too. His mama had shown him and his littermates how to link. She also warned that most cats and almost all humans couldn’t. Tigger didn’t know why, and neither did Mama. But Tigger accepted linking and his ability to read minds as natural and used it to protect his Anya. He found it strange and irritating that they shut him out.

  Tigger began to hiss and growl at the males who entered his area. He figured the more noise and trouble he made, the sooner someone higher up in the human chain would come. The higher up the chain, the more they would know. Eventually someone would know about Anya and take him to her. So when they didn’t react to his hiss and growl, he used claws. And finally after three days, he got results.

  Two males came down to the enclosure together. Tigger could tell that they were in charge. He could smell the authority when they were within a hundred feet of the enclosure. Within seventy-five feet, he smelled Anya. But Anya’s smell was a bit off. The dark one was Jonal, the light one, Tonas. They called each other by those names.

  He yowled when they came, trying to tell them to take him to Anya. He used his psi. They were psi capable, but they deliberately blocked him. He tried to sneak past them, tried to follow them and tried to psi them. He tried everything, one at a time and all together. They threw his Nerf ball and played. He jumped on their laps. He purred, he yowled. Ahhhhh!

  Tigger perceived some things by smell and cat sense. Jonal and Tonas were mates, and they were also Bonded to Anya. Humans, at least in Tigger’s experience, did not mate in threes. He knew his nose and psi sense could be completely trusted. Cat senses didn’t assume; when they knew, they knew. Cats didn’t equivocate; friend or foe, predator or prey, object or person, things were either one or the other. Both of these males were mates to Anya as well as to each other. Not something in his prior experience, but true nonetheless. Tigger looked forward to raising many healthy litters with Anya and her men. But first, Jonal and Tonas needed to learn that Tigger’s place was beside his Anya, not here in this container. On the eighth day, the dark one showed up, just as Tigger’s patience was at its limit. The litter stunk, he had no canned food and his water was stale. Jonal brought out the ball and Tigger clawed him.

  * * * *

  Tonas kept talking softly to Anya, quietly whispering, as he would to a wild bronc. “Shush, Pa Channa, my darling, shush. Channa, no-one will hurt you here. Please, Channa. You break our hearts with these tears.”

  Tonas looked over at Jonal. ::Have you any ideas? I can’t watch her cry. Her fear and sadness overwhelm my soul.::

  Anya gave up the struggle, though her body was still racked by sobs. She leaned into Tonas’s caress.

  Jonal sent to Tonas. ::Mine as well. She is so fem, so slight. I’m afraid for her. She can’t have a sedative, wait…maybe the Beast will calm her. Mark is always talking about the effects of tame animals on humans.::

  ::That’s it! Call Mark and transport the Beast.:: Tonas thought. Aloud he whispered, “We have something for you, something to make you happy. Calm down and let me wipe your face.” Anya began to breathe deeper and tried to control her tears.

  Jonal moved away from the bed and started through the door into the living area, roaring at communication. “Jonal, Admiral, Prince, FireClan. Doctor Stern, report to the Admirals’ Quarters. Cargo, prepare the Beast, for immediate transport to Admirals’ Quarters, now.”

  Tonas listened to Jonal give orders as he gently stroked Anya’s hair and arms. She was so beautiful, so fine and fragile. He had never believed an alien woman would be as attractive to him in the physical sense as one of the Sarran fem. Anya took his breath away. He ran his large, long fingered hand over her skin, breathing in the delicate but rich, floral scent. It was lavender, the bottles from her quarters said. The pale, silken skin was enticing, so soft and so very clear. You could almost see the veins below the surface. Across her nose and cheeks was a dusting of tiny golden flecks. That drew attention to her ice blue eyes. H
e had never seen another creature blessed with such feminine beauty. She was thin from the illness, but he and Jonal would take care of that, take care of her always, if she let them.

  “That’s it, Pa Channa, breathe,” Tonas murmured, as he placed a light kiss over her forehead. She was quiet now and her sobs had diminished to sniffs, then stopped, replaced by deep breaths. Her body no longer shook but she was still tense in his arms.

  “Merrrrrrrrrrrrow.”

  Anya jerked up, and looked around. Impossible, she thought.

  “Merrrrrrrrrrrrrow, row.”

  Tonas smiled. The bed shook slightly, and then the Beast pounced. It walked up on Anya’s legs and started to rub against her face as his claws kneaded the delicate sheet, pulling threads. Tonas moved and placed Anya beside him. He withdrew his arms, giving Anya space to reach Tigger.

  “Buzzzzz, puzzzzzzz.”

  “Tigger? Tigger, oh my God, Tigger. It’s you, it’s really you. Tigger, Tigger.”

  Jonal was right behind him. ::I actually felt a push in my head, and it wasn’t Anya.::

  ::I really believe that her Beast has more psi potential than the planet’s human population,:: Tonas replied. Their minds brushed Anya’s.

  ::Well, more than most of them,:: Tonas conceded as he smiled at Jonal. The expression transformed Tonas’s stern countenance to true magnificence. His green eyes were lit with happiness.

  Chapter 6

  “Honor isn’t about making the right choices.

  It’s about dealing with the consequences.”

  —Midori Koto

  Anya’s slender fingers slid across the white and orange tiger cat, performing a discrete inspection. Tigger had a pouch; he looked well fed and hydrated. His eyes were clear and not runny. His coat needed brushing, evidenced by the amount of hair he shed with each stroke. The tender pink pads of his four paws were smooth. His claws were much too long. I can’t avoid them forever by inspecting Tig. I need answers. Anya cringed. Her first question was straight out of a B movie script. I refuse to ask where I am. If this is a B movie, I will not follow the script.

  Still avoiding the combined gaze of the anxious men, she gave the room another quick sweep. Beyond the bed was a sitting area with three overstuffed chairs and two side tables. To the right of the chairs was the entry. The other door, she assumed, led to the toilet. The huge dark-haired man stood between her and both doors. The blond was still sitting on the bed. She was naked, clinging to a cat and had just had a meltdown. There was only one option left. She survived sixteen years in an orphanage by knowing when to yield. It was time to punt. Anya stuck out her chin, raised her head and looked directly down her nose in her best Sister Edwana imitation. “I am Dr. Anya Forrest, and you are?”

  “So formal, Pa Mici,” the dark one laughed. “I am Jonal, Prince of FireClan, Planet Sarran. The golden giant by your side is Tonas, Prince of LightClan. We are the Admirals and Commanders of the Galactic Defense Force and,” his deep voice lowered to a bare whisper, “your BondMates.”

  “We stayed at your side through your recovery, Pa Channa. The Medical Officers released you into our care. You were exhausted.” The blond, Tonas whispered into her hair. She pulled back, wiggling toward the left of the bed.

  “Wait a minute, back up. My what?” she stuttered. Careful, Anya, she cautioned herself. These guys are really big. They also have your hormones working overtime and that impairs your judgment. I need to slow this down. Anya’s pale sapphire eyes bounced from one set of perfect pecs to the other. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, it is the cast of Gladiator, with perfect buns. Why now? I’ve spent years with my libido safely in the freezer.

  Sister Edwana’s voice rang in her head. ''Consequences, Miss Forrester, where there is lust there are Consequences. You are a Consequence of inappropriate lust. By your very existence you exhaust the largess of the parish. You consume parish resources that could be more fittingly applied in Missionary Work and in the Propagation of the Faith. It is your sacred duty to repay that debt to God and to the good people of this parish. Reading this trash will bring about the same fate that befell your mother.” She was twenty-six years old and whenever the demon lust had struck, that voice played on continuous loop until the lust passed.

  But it’s not passing. Edwana was right, I am totally screwed up. They are telling me that I belong to both of them. I’m turned on, not freaked out. Aloud, Anya softly, “First, can you please tell me where I am and how I got here. Maybe then I can handle the eh…other thing.”

  “I feel your anxiety, Pa Channa. Why are you frightened? It is our honor and our duty to care for you, to see to your comfort. Jonal and I could not let you wake alone. Who is it that distresses you so?”

  Anya’s heart did a little dance. She flustered this Adonis of a man? She had no idea how to react. Here she was, naked under a sheet, in a room with two men whose mere presence made her nether regions damp, and he was flustered. Neither Sister Rose nor Miss Manners had prepared her to deal with this situation.

  A disembodied voice broke her musing, “Admirals, Dr. Stern.” Visible relief flooded Tonas’s harsh features.

  “Mark, Dr. Mark Stern,” Anya said. “Manhattan General’s Ma…What?”

  “Tonas, Admiral, Price of LightClan,” the blond said into the air. “Admit Dr. Stern to Admirals’ Quarters.”

  “Mark,” Jonal said, “in here.”

  Anya’s mouth dropped and her eyes opened wide in disbelief as Dr. Mark Stern, her Dr. Stern, MGMC’s Chief of staff, walked into the bedroom.

  “Finally decided to join the living, Dr. Forrest?” Mark said.

  Anya sputtered, “Dr. Stern, Mark?” She looked down again at her nakedness under the gauzy sheet with hardened nipples, no less. Anya felt the flush of heat that crept up her face. “I need a…”

  Jonal stood in front of the armoire, tracing his fingers around a cluster of the gilded fruit. The front panels disappeared, revealing a tumbled rainbow of color jammed to overflowing. He retrieved a robe of incandescent material that shimmered like silk when it moved. He carefully lifted Tigger to her side and then tucked the robe around her body.

  Anya, abashed at the casual intimacy of the act, blinked. “Thank you, Jonal,” she said, her voice conveying disbelief. His gaze was warm. Navy eyes stroked her body. Anya shivered. Both men are so handsome, it’s almost devastating. She brought the open robe up to her chin. Tigger settled back on her lap as if nothing were amiss. Anya felt the dampness at the juncture of her thighs. She lowered her eyes and pretended to look away. Anya had quite a bit of practice as a schoolgirl in peering at someone, unseen, using those lush lashes as camouflage. Bare chests, both well developed. Her physician’s eyes told her that neither of these guys were gym junkies. They did real exercise. Mmmm.

  What is wrong with me? These two refugees from Wrestling Mania were making her body thrum with heat. They aren’t even my type.

  “Um, Dr. Stern, may I speak with you privately?” Anya asked.

  She watched as Mark looked at the pantheon escapees. The dark one answered in a hard voice that brooked no arguments, “Ah, Pa Mici, anything you have to say can surely be heard by your BondMates.”

  Anya heard the steel in his voice, but what really intrigued her was the tenderness of his expression. The navy eyes sparkled in invitation. His glossy black curls fell in front of his face. Her fingers itched to touch them. She clenched one hand into the gauzy fabric. The other stroked Tigger with more vigor. She caught his tail. He objected, stood up, circled and laid down again, his tail tucked neatly under his body.

  Tonas chuckled at Tigger’s air of affront. ”Ah Pa Channa, you must know that we cannot bear to leave you alone.” Tonas breathed into her neck. He slid his fingers along the length of her arm. The caress was hypnotic. Anya tried a strategic retreat to the left and bumped into his buddy. She was well and truly flanked.

  Sighing, she realized if she insisted on a private discussion, the consequences could be of a nature she refused to contemplate. Anya
acquiesced. “Okay then, Mark, have you any idea where we are and how we all got here?” she waved her hand to include Tigger, and almost got Tonas in the nose. A small glimmer of satisfaction swept her face then left instantly. Her expression carefully schooled, she adopted a demeanor of poise and polite interest.

  ::But can you screen your thoughts as well as you can your beautiful visage?:: There it was again. I’m acquiring a third voice. I’m channeling Sybil, Anya inwardly groaned.

  “Anya, please excuse my informality, but I think we are all beyond that,” Mark said as he carefully eyed the half naked men. Mark’s reaction to them told Anya that these two were powerful, indeed, if they had Mark Stern skirting round their tempers.

  “I’ll give you the abbreviated version,” Mark said. “Anya, the Plague was manufactured by an alien species. They geared it to mitochondrial DNA and ovulation cycles.”

  Anya thought for a moment. “That accounts for the staggered onset…Mark, why didn’t we see it?” Anya shook her head. “It wouldn’t have done any good if we had. With half the population down, we didn’t have the resources.” She paused, “I noticed a difference in severity of the flares at onset. Mitigating factors?”

  “Yes,” Mark replied. “Fertility cycles determined onset. Immune reaction was determined by a genetic component that was triggered by potential for psychic development.” Mark turned to the Sarrans and explained, ''ESP or psychic research has been largely dismissed on Earth as a refuge for New Age scam artists. We never recognized the potential. Psychic abilities lay there with all of the other so-called junk DNA. By the way, UFO researches were also labeled as cranks.” Mark looked wryly at giants on her sides and then back to Anya. “See where that led us.”