Kalen is brushing my fur. She yanks and tugs at the knots, and in a series of long gentle sweeps, she turns my angry Loper mane into a smooth silky flow.
“What will you do?” she asks.
“Settle on Kornbluth, I suppose. The DRs are all deactivated. The humans will need help getting used to life without the Earth Beacon. I could help in that.”
“I thought I might go home.”
“To your home planet? Persia?”
“I need to spend more time with my people.”
“Your people are scattered through space. Besides, you aren’t sociable.”
“They are my people!”
“Cat people hate other cat people. It’s a well-known fact.”
“Except when we’re in heat.”
“You’re lucky. You can easily pass for pure human.”
“Why would I want to?”
“Fair point.”
“Just because I haven’t got fur and a tail like you. Doesn’t make me one of them.”
“Hey, don’t be racist.”
“I can smell the desire on you.”
“Can you?”
“Pure humans can’t smell emotion as we do. They exist flatly. They can’t smell, they can’t even see the future.”
“You can see the future?”
“I can see a future.”
“Does it involve me?”
“Intimately.”
“Are you in heat?”
“No. But I’m not a slave to my biology.”
“Ah. Right. You realise I may scratch?”
“If you scratch, I’ll bite.”
“Brush a bit lower.”
“Like this?”
“Now stroke my fur.”
“Like this?”
“Like that.”
“This bit isn’t furry.”
“Oh that’s nice. Oh! Oh yes! Now, let me stroke you.”
She unzips. I touch her.
“Ah! Ah! Ah!”
“Is that good?”
Kalen
Miaow.