The Game of Rat and DragonLinebarger, Paul Myron Anthony
Science
The Game of Rat and Dragon
Linebarger, Paul Myron Anthony
Science fiction; Short stories
When he had first come into contact with her mind, he was astonished at
its clarity. With her he remembered her kittenhood. He remembered every
mating experience she had ever had. He saw in a half-recognizable
gallery all the other pinlighters with whom she had been paired for the
fight. And he saw himself radiant, cheerful and desirable.
He even thought he caught the edge of a longing--
A very flattering and yearning thought: _What a pity he is not a cat._
Woodley picked up the last stone. He drew what he deserved--a sullen,
scared old tomcat with none of the verve of Captain Wow. Woodley's
Partner was the most animal of all the cats on the ship, a low,
brutish type with a dull mind. Even telepathy had not refined his
character. His ears were half chewed off from the first fights in
which he had engaged.
He was a serviceable fighter, nothing more.
Woodley grunted.
Underhill glanced at him oddly. Didn't Woodley ever do anything but
grunt?
Father Moontree looked at the other three. "You might as well get your
Partners now. I'll let the Scanner know we're ready to go into the
Up-and-Out."
THE DEAL
Underhill spun the combination lock on the Lady May's cage. He woke
her gently and took her into his arms. She humped her back
luxuriously, stretched her claws, started to purr, thought better of
it, and licked him on the wrist instead. He did not have the pin-set
on, so their minds were closed to each other, but in the angle of her
mustache and in the movement of her ears, he caught some sense of
gratification she experienced in finding him as her Partner.
He talked to her in human speech, even though speech meant nothing to
a cat when the pin-set was not on.
"It's a damn shame, sending a sweet little thing like you whirling
around in the coldness of nothing to hunt for Rats that are bigger and
deadlier than all of us put together. You didn't ask for this kind of
fight, did you?"
For answer, she licked his hand, purred, tickled his cheek with her
long fluffy tail, turned around and faced him, golden eyes shining.
For a moment, they stared at each other, man squatting, cat standing
erect on her hind legs, front claws digging into his knee. Human eyes
and cat eyes looked across an immensity which no words could meet, but
which affection spanned in a single glance.
"Time to get in," he said.
She walked docilely into her spheroid carrier. She climbed in. He saw
to it that her miniature pin-set rested firmly and comfortably against
the base of her brain. He made sure that her claws were padded so that
she could not tear herself in the excitement of battle.
Softly he said to her, "Ready?"
For answer, she preened her back as much as her harness would permit
and purred softly within the confines of the frame that held her.
He slapped down the lid and watched the sealant ooze around the seam.
For a few hours, she was welded into her projectile until a workman
with a short cutting arc would remove her after she had done her duty.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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