to the neck.
Not sharks, then,
Sky said, sounding relieved.
Sharks have hundreds of sharp teeth. They kill quick.
They found the grid covering the opening of the vent into the chamber.
Within the room, they saw the bound feet of Adrienne being circled by the deliberately slow and taunting footsteps of the interrogation officer. The cruel voice droned on and on, saying dreadful things. The essence of the tormentor’s message was that Adrienne was a bad cat who peed upon upholstery and produced hair balls in inconvenient places, that nobody liked her and she deserved punishment from which she could only redeem herself by cooperating with her captors. Zuzu heard nothing from Adrienne but assumed her poor
amie
was capable of hearing or the voice would not continue droning.
That human is no friend,
Sky observed.
The feline had no inclination to discuss the obvious.
We must act quickly, otter. But how to make them leave her alone? You saw how they pursued and threatened you, who had done them no harm. They have no respect for those with the correct number of legs. We must send them a message, but they do not speak our language.
Otters send messages.
But how? How will you make them understand it? Make them
leave?
They will not understand it because they are not otters and do not know the scent signs. But they will leave.
He shook his tail and ripples ran down his sleek body as he expelled what was left in his digestive system.
The smell was overpowering in the enclosed space. From some central place within the system a fan enhanced the otter’s odiferous efforts. Zuzu set to work augmenting the otterly offerings with her own.
The man’s voice broke off. He sniffed, he gagged, he coughed, then the door slammed again and he bellowed down the hallway, calling for his underlings, demanding to know what stank so badly.
Zuzu feared that such bad men would lack the sensitivity to have their evil work disrupted by little more than noisome piles of poo, but as the man stomped into the hall, he called back to Adrienne. “Sit there and choke on the stench, bitch. I’ll deal with you later.”
Otter, you are a creature of great resourcefulness. Never did I know that otter excrement smelled bad enough to drive away evildoers.
It isn’t just the scat, cat. Otters use scent for messages. I sent the man a very angry message and told him to stop hurting your friend. I do not think he understands otter scent messages, but he seems to have understood that one.
CHAPTER 10
W HEN Y ANA’S TEAM passed the engine room, they shed a member, Rick, who entered the room as if reporting for his shift, going straight to the duty station as they had planned and saluting the man already there. That man returned the salute, made an about-face, and headed gratefully for the crew’s quarters. There would not be a lot going on in the engine room while the ship was docked, and they were counting on the crew being bored and somewhat slack.
After Rick left, the team had five minutes to reach the bridge. Yana had not been on a troop ship for more than a decade, but she was relieved to find that this was a vintage model that dated back to her days in the Corps. Same dingy beige paint, same sharp corners and textured metal corridors, same gridded stairs. She would have expected to feel right at home here, on the same sort of vessel where she had spent much of her career, but despite the familiarity, she found it oppressive and confining. Her entire cabin on Petaybee would have fit in a small section of the ship’s main corridor, but she’d grown used to windows and a door she could walk through to the outdoors.
Or maybe it just had to do with the fact that she was no longer on a ship full of comrades. Except for the four people with whom she’d boarded, she was surrounded by enemies. In her experience, that tended to make one feel confined.
Crew members had passed them without a second look so far, but she knew it was just a matter of time before
Not sharks, then,
Sky said, sounding relieved.
Sharks have hundreds of sharp teeth. They kill quick.
They found the grid covering the opening of the vent into the chamber.
Within the room, they saw the bound feet of Adrienne being circled by the deliberately slow and taunting footsteps of the interrogation officer. The cruel voice droned on and on, saying dreadful things. The essence of the tormentor’s message was that Adrienne was a bad cat who peed upon upholstery and produced hair balls in inconvenient places, that nobody liked her and she deserved punishment from which she could only redeem herself by cooperating with her captors. Zuzu heard nothing from Adrienne but assumed her poor
amie
was capable of hearing or the voice would not continue droning.
That human is no friend,
Sky observed.
The feline had no inclination to discuss the obvious.
We must act quickly, otter. But how to make them leave her alone? You saw how they pursued and threatened you, who had done them no harm. They have no respect for those with the correct number of legs. We must send them a message, but they do not speak our language.
Otters send messages.
But how? How will you make them understand it? Make them
leave?
They will not understand it because they are not otters and do not know the scent signs. But they will leave.
He shook his tail and ripples ran down his sleek body as he expelled what was left in his digestive system.
The smell was overpowering in the enclosed space. From some central place within the system a fan enhanced the otter’s odiferous efforts. Zuzu set to work augmenting the otterly offerings with her own.
The man’s voice broke off. He sniffed, he gagged, he coughed, then the door slammed again and he bellowed down the hallway, calling for his underlings, demanding to know what stank so badly.
Zuzu feared that such bad men would lack the sensitivity to have their evil work disrupted by little more than noisome piles of poo, but as the man stomped into the hall, he called back to Adrienne. “Sit there and choke on the stench, bitch. I’ll deal with you later.”
Otter, you are a creature of great resourcefulness. Never did I know that otter excrement smelled bad enough to drive away evildoers.
It isn’t just the scat, cat. Otters use scent for messages. I sent the man a very angry message and told him to stop hurting your friend. I do not think he understands otter scent messages, but he seems to have understood that one.
CHAPTER 10
W HEN Y ANA’S TEAM passed the engine room, they shed a member, Rick, who entered the room as if reporting for his shift, going straight to the duty station as they had planned and saluting the man already there. That man returned the salute, made an about-face, and headed gratefully for the crew’s quarters. There would not be a lot going on in the engine room while the ship was docked, and they were counting on the crew being bored and somewhat slack.
After Rick left, the team had five minutes to reach the bridge. Yana had not been on a troop ship for more than a decade, but she was relieved to find that this was a vintage model that dated back to her days in the Corps. Same dingy beige paint, same sharp corners and textured metal corridors, same gridded stairs. She would have expected to feel right at home here, on the same sort of vessel where she had spent much of her career, but despite the familiarity, she found it oppressive and confining. Her entire cabin on Petaybee would have fit in a small section of the ship’s main corridor, but she’d grown used to windows and a door she could walk through to the outdoors.
Or maybe it just had to do with the fact that she was no longer on a ship full of comrades. Except for the four people with whom she’d boarded, she was surrounded by enemies. In her experience, that tended to make one feel confined.
Crew members had passed them without a second look so far, but she knew it was just a matter of time before
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