Tigra Page 5

  She picked up the cub and held it at arm's length, as if not trusting the strangeness of the animal. Oblivious as to whether it was behaving correctly or not, the cat continued to wail. She winced—the sound was piercing.

  Still wary, but wanting to quiet the animal, she brought it close to her and gently stroked its back. There was no effect for some time, but eventually the crying decreased in both volume and intensity until it was replaced by quiet sniffling. Having a now-quiet tigra cub and wishing to keep it that way, she eased them both onto her cot, lying down with the cub next to her. It immediately snuggled up to her and closed its eyes, content and unconcerned.

  Just before dozing off herself, Jeena opened one eye and peered at the animal.

  "Piss the bed,” she warned, “and you die."

  * * * *

  The noise, which had earlier made a hairline crack in Jeena's consciousness, now shattered it completely. With a start, she opened her eyes to see the cub digging itself out of a fallen pile of food cans.

  "Making yourself at home?” she asked.

  The cub stopped trying to extricate itself long enough to cock its head at her, then resumed.

  "Fetch me the canteen,” she mumbled.

  Finally extracting itself from the pile, the cub loped over to the cot and looked up at her.

  "Oh, well, it was worth a try. What were you looking for? Hungry again?"

  The cat licked at the air.

  "I'll take that as a yes. But what do you say we take a morning pee first? I'm guessing you have to, and I know I do."

  Together, they strode up to the pit latrine she had dug a little way from the camp up in the high grass. There was a small wooden seat she had built from a crate, and she sat down on it. The tigra cub, watching her actions, seemed to grasp the purpose of this trip and lifted his leg.

  "Ah, so you're a male. I was wondering about that."

  Their morning toilet complete, they walked briskly back to camp.

  "Hey,” she said suddenly to the trotting cub beside her, “I thought only dogs raised their leg?"

  They spent their first day together investigating some fruit trees Jeena had noticed growing near the riverbank. The trees resembled baobabs and bore fruit with a burnt-orange rind. Splitting open the husk with her thumb, she found a soft light-pink pulp with a scent and flavor that reminded her of banana. She gathered as many as she could and stuffed them into an old duffel bag she had found in the pilot's locker.

  Heading on to the waterfall, she tossed the duffel on the riverbank and went in for a dip. The cub declined an invitation to join her, content to remain on the bank and guard the fruit.

  It was while standing under the cascading water that Jeena noticed the red clay along the wall of the rise. She pried a handful away. It was heavy and thick, and molded well in her hands. She washed it off from her fingers and jumped out of the stream, picking up the fruit and heading back to camp, tigra in tow.

  The fire pit had some flaws that had become apparent the first night. For one, it was too shallow, and sparks tended to fly all around. Also, the embers mixed with the loose, sandy dirt, making it difficult to clean. The clay could be the answer if she could make them into bricks.

  Taking the levitation jack from the hold, she slid it under a small empty crate and pulled it to the waterfall. There she filled it with the soft clay and hauled it back, with the cub managing to get underfoot at every opportunity. He became curious at the sight of the jack floating effortlessly a few inches above the ground and made the mistake of trying to crawl under it. He let out a yelp as the reverse gravitational field kicked him several feet into the air. She checked him out—he seemed only startled, but he had learned his lesson and never again got near the jack.

  Back at the camp she formed the clay into large, rectangular bricks, setting them in the hot sun to bake. Once dry she set them in the pit, starting in the center and spiraling out. The fire, she knew, would harden them even more.

  Having clay left over, she tried her hand at pottery. Some hours later she had produced several less-than-round bowls and two precariously leaning drinking cups. Playing with the clay brought back an old childhood memory. She rolled out an oval-shaped piece of clay and flattened it, then pressed her palm into it, leaving an imprint. She stared at the cub for a moment before lifting him up and pressing his paw into the center of her palm print. The cub looked confused, but Jeena was pleased, and set the whole thing aside for firing later.

  That night, she placed the pottery in the mound of ashes collecting below the flames; she kept the fire burning long into the night. The next morning she pulled the pieces from the still-smoldering embers. The method was crude, but it worked well enough. The hand-and-paw plaque she hung up as an ornament in the tent.

  For the next several weeks Jeena spent her time improving the campsite and exploring the immediate area. She crafted a crude table and chair from discarded crates, formed a ring of large logs around the fire pit to sit on, filled a barrel from the hold with fresh water from the stream and created an awning over the tent door using a discarded piece of tarp.

  She did a reconnaissance of the surrounding land for ten miles in each direction, recording her findings. There were few surprises. Vegetation consisted mainly of grasses and scrawny bushes. There were few true trees, and only those by the river bore fruit. There was ample animal life, from insects and birds to large herbivores, like the swift, deer-like creatures Vicki had identified as wolla. She also ran into a few usk foraging for game in the high grass, but they seemed to ignore her and she returned the favor.

  In none of her travels did Jeena see any sign of other tigras. Although she knew they were solitary animals, she had half-expected to at least see some signs of their presence in the large area she had covered, and was surprised by their absence. Surely, the cub and his mother were not the only ones of their kind in all this savanna. The cub's presence alone implied at least one adult male of the species.

  During all these activities, the cub was her constant companion. She awoke each morning unsure as to whether he would still be there, and lately found herself hoping he would be. She kept up a more-or-less constant one-sided conversation with him, out of a general human habit of speaking to pets as well as a basic need to communicate. He never spoke back, but then, he never argued, either—a fair trade-off as far as she was concerned.

  Actually, he's probably the best company I could have right now, she realized. After the trauma of the prison, she needed time alone but not total isolation. To do that was to risk madness. Jeena knew that pets had played a part in psychotherapy for centuries, helping to heal invisible wounds by the simple act of their presence. The tigra had that effect on her, and although she loathed the idea that he had gained the status of “pet,” there was no denying that, despite her best efforts, she was growing attached to him.

  Chapter 5

  "He who is unable to live in society, or who has no need because he is sufficient for himself, must be either a beast or a god."

  Aristotle, Ancient Earth Philosopher

  Encyclopedic History of the Union, 22nd ed.

  Jeena stepped out of the shower, drying herself and humming along to Strauss's “Tales from the Vienna Wood.” To conserve ship's power, she allowed herself only one hot shower a week, at other times using the waterfall at the stream. As she dried, she examined her body in the mirror.

  The exercise program she had initiated two months ago was starting to show results. Although she was still thin, her shape was returning. Her hips were no longer just bones draped with skin but now curved in a graceful line to her legs. These, too, had filled out and were now sleek and strong. Even her breasts had returned to their normal size. She cupped them in her hands.

  "Welcome back, girls,” she said to her reflection.

  The cub stood looking at her curiously.

  "Hey, these babies picked up their fair share of men in their day. Women, too, come to think of it."

  The cub appeared un
impressed.

  "Ah, what would you know?” She pulled her foot up to her buttocks and arched her back, stretching. “How ‘bout going for a run, fur-butt?"

  In answer, the cub began to bounce and prance around. Running was part of her daily regime, and he loved to accompany her. In Ararat's lighter gravity Jeena could run faster than she ever had on Earth, but she was still no match for him—even at his young age he had a speed she could scarcely believe.

  She started off to the east along a ten-mile trail she had laid out a few weeks before, the cub running easily beside her. She loved this time of day, when it was warm but not yet hot and the air smelled clean and new, as though she was the first living thing to breathe it. She felt good today. Her body was responding to the workouts, and she reveled in the sensation of strength in her legs as they propelled her along. She ran quietly, listening to the sounds of the planet around her.

  Having spent most of her life on the noisy high-tech worlds of the Union, she had at first thought Ararat impossibly quiet and still. As the months passed, she discovered her hearing had sharpened, and found that the planet actually hosted a chorus of life. Throwing her head back as she ran, she listened for the individual voices in that chorus.

  There was the sound of rustling grass near her feet. Strange, alien birds cried faintly above her. Skittish grazing animals stomped and snorted as she ran by, sometimes bolting and triggering an entire herd to thunder across the savanna.

  She had learned to distinguish those sounds and more: the light patter of the cub's paws as he ran beside her; small herbivores darting unseen in the tall grass; an occasional roll of distant thunder. And the smells. Both animal and vegetal, they were thick and heavy in the air. Where they had once seemed overpowering, they were now familiar and reassuring.

  They made their way to the end of the trail, and Jeena paused for a moment to rest, sitting on a fallen tree trunk. The cub romped around her, full of energy and wanting to play. To Jeena's mind he behaved more like an Earth dog than a cat, but then, she had little real experience with either.

  She picked up a stick and threw it down the path. The cub ran eagerly after it, grasping it in his jaws and bringing it back to her proudly. She threw it again, and this time it landed in the tall grass. The cub stood at the edge of the trail, looking into the dense blades and trying to locate the wayward stick.

  Jeena knew from past experience that he hated going into the grass. It was thick and stiff, and he was too small to see over it. This caused him to become disorientated and occasionally lost, something that had happened to him on more than one occasion. Once she had heard him crying and went looking for him, eventually finding him shaken and scared in a thick patch near the latrine. He seldom now went into the grass without her there beside him.

  This time he appeared to have made up his mind to face his fear and took a step forward in search of the stick. A moment later he jumped back onto the trail.

  A kroll followed him.

  Jeena froze. One of the few life forms on Ararat that Vicki had identified as poisonous, the kroll resembled a thick-armored lizard with powerful front and rear limbs ending in claws. It was not much smaller in size than the cub. The reptile faced the tigra, hissing and ready for a fight.

  The cub had initially jumped back in surprise, but now he approached the lizard warily, his fangs and claws projecting. Jeena looked quickly for something to throw at the kroll. If she could distract it maybe the cub had a chance to escape—she did not see how he could survive a fight with this deadly foe.

  She had picked up a stone and was prepared to hurl it when the kroll struck, its venom-dripping fangs aimed for the cub's face. In a movement too fast for Jeena to see clearly, the cub dodged the blow, twisting his body and bringing his jaws down on the lizard's head. The reptile tore at the air with its claws, slashing wildly and trying to reach the cub, but the cat was too quick. His movements were a blur as he jumped and spun, always keeping his body just out of reach of the kroll's claws, its head held firmly in his jaws.

  Finally, the kroll went limp, and the cub halted his acrobatic display. Trotting proudly, he brought the dead lizard to Jeena, laying it at her feet.

  She looked at the cub with renewed wonder—it was an awesome display of fighting ability in an animal so young. Gently picking him up, she examined him closely. He squirmed in her lap as she lifted his upper lip.

  The fangs lay just inside his cheek, more lateral than the other teeth and folded back on a muscular hinge. She touched the tip of one with her finger and was rewarded with a pinprick. Like his retractable claws, they had snapped into position automatically, and were already returning back to their resting position.

  Jeena put the cub back down. This animal is not a pet, she reminded herself again. Take him out somewhere and let him go before he becomes too dangerous. He is strong enough now to care for himself.

  She stood and stretched then started back toward her camp, running at a leisurely pace, the cub trotting happily beside her. It's time to let him go. Deal with it.

  But she did not deal with it. The months turned into more months, and still the cub showed no sign of wanting to leave. He even continued to sleep with her in the tent, although on a mat on the floor now he had grown too large to comfortably share the cot.

  She had puzzled initially over what to feed him before finding the powdered milk in the ship's galley. Re-hydrated and used sparingly, there was enough to give him a milk meal every day for the first month or so. This was in addition to the sardines, herring and other canned fish she found in the ship's stores. She had no idea if this was a good diet for a tigra or not, but she remembered something about Earth cats liking fish and milk, and besides, he was getting bigger and he looked healthy.

  Time passed, yet Jeena made no attempt to verify the existence of the colonies. She justified this by reminding herself that this sector of space was in Coalition hands, and that there was a good chance of one or both colonies—assuming they had managed to survive—being aligned with them.

  Yet she knew this was simply an excuse. The real reason she didn't search out the colonies was that she didn't want to find them. Not now, not yet.

  Linking up with the colonists might provide her with a way of contacting the Union, but it would also mean reassignment to her unit. She wasn't ready for that. If her time on Ararat had showed her anything, it was that she was not the same woman she had once been. Mizar 3 had broken her.

  She remembered little of the last few months of her confinement and realized now that she had slipped into madness. The Union raid that gave her the opportunity of escape had jolted her back to reason, but the torture and degradation had taken the once-cocky soldier and twisted her, until everything inside her was sick and dying. Whatever else she might be, Jeena Garza was no longer a warrior. It was a sobering realization, since war was the only life she had ever known.

  She had spent her youth in a group home run by the Arian Christians. When she was old enough to understand, the sisters at the orphanage explained that a young woman had come to them in the middle of the night. She was exhausted and frightened and obviously running from something or someone. With her, she carried a child only a few weeks old. She had given no explanation and left no name, just pushed the child into the arms of a matron and ran, never to return.

  The orphanage was clean and comfortable and efficient—about as much as one could expect from a charity-run institution. The children were sent to a nearby public school, and as much as she could enjoy anything, Jeena enjoyed learning and buried herself in her studies.

  From the very first she seemed to have difficulty forming relationships with the other children and grew into a lonely, somber child.

  If there was one bright aspect to her life, it was the stables. They were not part of the orphanage but belonged to a wealthy landowner and sat on wooded acreage adjacent to it. He had agreed to allow a few of the children to ride on the weekends in exchange for them cleaning the stables and maintaining t
he horses. Most of the children soon tired of this arrangement, but Jeena never did, continuing to ride until the day she left.

  She would gallop recklessly through the fields, loving the feel of the wind in her face and the sense of freedom it gave her. She pushed herself and the horses hard, but they instinctively trusted her, and she, in turn, treated them with respect and kindness. At the end of a day of riding she would clean and brush the animals, lingering as long as she could before walking slowly back to the home.

  She was accepted into the Star Corps Academy at sixteen. The military's need for soldiers in the century-old civil war was insatiable, and orphanages like hers were always a reliable source of raw recruits. Although it was customary to have a small party when a child finally left the home, Jeena never attended them, and it was no surprise when no one thought to give her one.

  The Academy was hard, both mentally and physically. Space was an unforgiving environment in which to fight a war, and only the smartest and toughest survived long. Jeena thrived on the competition and intense physical training and soon excelled, ending up near the top of her class at the end of her first semester. She was considered ruthless and distant by her classmates, but she took no notice, even when she bothered to listen to the whispers.

  She was exposed to much that was new to her during this time, including, inevitably, her first sexual encounter—a male cadet and upperclassman. She had discovered the art of pleasing herself accidentally some years earlier, but this was vastly different. Following the initial encounter, she was immediately ready to repeat the experience and was disappointed to discover the limits of male performance—her partner had fallen asleep.

  For a time, sex became an obsession, and she soon gained the reputation as an aggressive and passionate lover—as well as other descriptions that were not so kind. Jeena didn't care. She had many partners, both men and women, but made no close emotional bonds with any of them. She made it clear from the outset she was interested only in the physical side of relationships. There were few objections to this precondition, and she had little trouble satiating her often-ravenous sexual appetite.