Day Four: Paradise Station

A black cat crossing your path signifies that the animal is going somewhere.

- Groucho Marx -

Darwin was saying something to me. I could tell by his intense stare, the set of his ears, his stance, hell, even the way his tail kept flicking back and forth irritably. It was apparently very important to him. Unfortunately I still couldn't speak 'cat,' so I just did what I thought would be right. I just sat there and stared right back. It would seem that I had made the wrong decision.

You know how the hairs on the back of your neck stand up when someone is sneaking up on you from behind? Yeah, that didn't happen.

"Stand up very slowly," a voice said from behind me. I can't say I was scared, but I was surprised. After everything that had happened so far, not much was scaring me these days. To be honest, fear was an emotion I hadn't felt in almost a decade. Feel free to add that to the long list of my deficiencies, if you are keeping track. My hands slowly came up. 

I was still staring at Darwin. Did you know that a cat can roll his eyes? Neither did I.

He stared at me again, and this time I could tell that he was really pissed. Cats have an amazing capacity to emanate their superiority to you while simultaneously making you feel like an idiot. Black cats doubly so. He rolled his eyes again. And again.

I looked up to the ceiling, trying to see something useful besides the ubiquitous low-grav handrails. Then I finally understood and I realized that Darwin was right. I was stupid. The twenty-four hour shuttle to the station had left me groggy and jet lagged. At least that is the excuse I am using at this time.

"I am getting up," I answered. "Don't do anything I'll regret, please." This late in the game, I knew that negotiations were out of the question. For some reason, people associated with this Find were never in a talking mood. It was a little disappointing, really. Not that I like talking to people, but it is usually a faster way of getting information than other, more physical means.

I had only just stepped out of the sonic shower, so I hadn't dressed yet and my feet were still bare. To be precise, I only had a robe on, compliments of Paradise Space Station's Valhalla Hotel. 

I continued to rise. Then I sprang for the ceiling. The Station's low gravity was no match for my planet trained muscles, so I shot up, and as an afterthought, kicked the chair out from behind me. 

I have rammed my head against these damned ceilings so many times that I have acquired the unconscious skill of catching myself on the rails. It beats the hell out of bashing my head against them, again. 

The chair broke from its weak magnetic hold to the floor and flew across the small room. My improvised missile found its mark and the force of its voyage picked my guest up and carried him over the bed and into the opposite wall.

By the time I made it to the ceiling, he and the chair were sinking back to the floor, very slowly. I flipped myself around so that I was hanging flat against the ceiling with my feet and hands hooked into the railings. I scanned the room, looking for anything else out of place. It would seem that we were alone. I couldn't see his weapon. Maybe it had fallen under the bed, but no matter, my new friend was not conscious enough to make any use of it.

Darwin started climbing the padded wall using his long claws, slowly making his way up to me. I stayed on the ceiling for another minute or so while my chair and its target settled to the floor. I waited for some sign of consciousness. 

There was a slight movement in my peripheral vision, and Darwin turned a bemused look on me. He then calmly watched as the belt to my robe fluttered slowly to the floor. My robe gaped open, but I didn't want to let go of the ceiling just yet. Darwin could get an eyeful if he liked. 

I think what bothered me the most was his utter disregard at my sudden exposure. He continued to climb until he was situated next to my head then curled up, purring contentedly as he tucked his tail under him to keep it from hanging embarrassingly downward. I suddenly felt very self-conscious with my robe wide open and all my gifts just hanging about, but I decided to stay where I was for a moment more. Cats are very proud, as you likely know. I am not.

There was still no movement from our friend, so I launched myself gently to the floor and slipped into my Station grav shoes to keep my feet on the ground. I reached down and cautiously grabbed my belt. As I tied my robe closed again, I looked up at Darwin, still contentedly napping on the padded ceiling. Apparently I was going to have to do this interrogation alone. A groan from the other side of the bed focused me immediately to the task at hand.

I walked slowly across the room, making sure I didn't accidentally break gravity again, and picked up my interrogatee and my chair, one in each hand. He was very light, despite my strength, so I figured he likely was a native to Paradise Station. 

Generations had spent their lives on this station, or one of the hundreds like it around the system, never setting foot on the surface of any of the three planets. No amount of supplements and partial-G exercises can replace good old gravity. I only hoped my decision to throw a chair at him hadn't broken any bones. Well not many, anyhow.

I got to the middle of the floor in my small room, placed the chair, and swung my guest into it. I looked around for something to secure him with, then sighed. Reaching down with my free hand, I once again undid my belt. It would seem that today would not be not a day for dignity. His hands safely secure to the chair, I clipped the chair legs to the loops recessed into the floor. While he was still deciding whether consciousness was a place he wanted to revisit, I took the opportunity to put some pants on. Darwin might not care, but I didn't want my guest to be distracted while we had our little chat. Alright, allow me a little vanity.

Now partially presentable, I was ready to begin our little Q&A. I grabbed a pouch of water from the minibar (I wasn't paying for the room after all), uncapped it and squatted in front of my visitor to take a closer look. He was pale skinned, another clue that he was Station bound, and looked to be fairly young.  He was in his late 30s, early 40s or thereabouts. 

His hair was light blond, thin, dirty, and unusually long. His fingernails were cracked, and it looked like dirt and lubricant were embedded right into his pores. He was definitely from The Warrens nearer the center of the station, a station rat.

I sighed, stood up and squirted some of the water from the bag into his face. It splashed into his eyes and onto his cheek, then started to trickle down into his shirt. Some of it refused to stick to the rat's skin and started to form globules that floated lazily away.

I waited for a reaction. Nothing. Really? This always worked in the vids. I squirted a little more for good measure. Still nothing, and the water was starting to flow around the room. If any of it got on Darwin, I would have one very irritated cat and a wet man tied to a chair in my room.

"Hey," I said, "can you hear me?" I nudged his leg with my toe but a groan was my only reward. I was debating whether a more physical wakeup call would be required when I heard the incessant purring stop. I looked up to the cat on the ceiling.

Darwin had apparently decided that his particular expertise was required, and he threw himself into one of those convoluted leaps he was so fond of, launching himself from the ceiling, twisting in midair and landing on his feet in the middle of the bed. He then walked in his slow, stately Station walk across the bed, jumped to the floor then came towards me. 

He paused to give me a 'Do I have to do everything myself?' look. He then sat himself before our guest and stood on his hind paws. 

You can't really prepare yourself for Darwin. I don't think that people really ever grasp Darwin's true size. They look and see a black cat, bigger than your usual house pet to be sure, but still just a cat. 

To say he was a large black cat would be a misleading understatement. He is large and black, but only if large means that he was about 25 kilos and just about a meter in height. He isn't as bulky as one of those extinct panthers you see in the archeology vids, though I am sure that they were part of the inspiration for his design.

Darwin rested his paws on our guest's lap, then he dug his claws into the soft flesh, staring directly into the station rat's eyes. That worked, if I were to judge by the sudden yelp of pain that escaped our now fully conscious house guest.

Now awake, long-hair stared at me, then at the cat, then around the room, then back at the cat. This last seemed to confuse him for a moment.

Our visitor finally took a deep breath and broke his fixation from the immense cat on his lap to stare at me with bulging eyes.

"Are you insane?" he yelled. "You could have killed me, you brute!" Darwin took exception to his volume, or tone, or both. He expressed his displeasure through his claws, though he didn't break his gaze from our captive's eyes. This elicited yet another scream from our now thoroughly offended guest. 

"Get this beast off me!" he yelled, then took another deep breath. He winced visibly, realizing that his chest hurt. "You've killed me! My heart is broken!" Clearly we were dealing with a member of the intelligentsia here. 

"At worst," I replied calmly, "you have a few cracked ribs. You really shouldn't sneak up on people like that. It is impolite."

"Please, move the beast," he begged, much more quietly now. "I don't want to get infectered." (I swear, he said 'infectered'.)

I hoped for our guest's sake that Darwin didn't understand what he had just said, although I was pretty sure that he did. "Darwin, you'd better get down. You might catch something."

Black cats have an uncanny way of following instructions while making it appear that it was their idea all along. Darwin made his way back to the bed, confident in his self-determination. I looked around vainly for another chair. I most definitely did not want to do this standing up, not after this last week, so I took a page from Darwin's book.

I reached down, unclipped the chair, then with a single hand lifted our visitor chair and all and spun him around to face the bed. I clipped him back into the floor then I sat next to Darwin. It felt right to be conducting another interview with him at my side. It is what partners do, after all. Long-hair's eyes were a little wild now at my casual display of strength. Darwin just sat quietly beside me, staring down our chair-bound intruder.

"Right," I said. "Talk." 

He paused a moment, then said, "I came to warn you. They have sent an assassin after you. A good one this time."