Michael Coney - Cat Karina

Cat Karina

Michael Coney

AN [e- reads ] BOOK

New York, NY

No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, or mechanical,

including photocopy, recording, scanning or any information storage retrieval system, without explicit permission in

writing from the Author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are

used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locals or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

First e-reads publication 2002

www.e-reads.com

ISBN 0-7592-2822-1

Table of Contents

One — The Song of Earth

Two — The World of Karina

Three — Tortugo

Four — The Frustration of Tonio

Five — Exile

Epilogue

One

The Song of Earth

“Step out of your shroud,

Alan-Blue-Cloud,

And sing us a Song of Earth.”

— Childrens’ ditty of the Terminal Millennia.

When everything else had run down, we will still have the legends of Old Earth.

There is a giant computer which straddles the world. It has its roots deep in the Fifty-second Millennium;

that so-distant past when Man discovered electricity. It walked through history hand-in-hand with Man; it

saw the building of the first Domes, it survived the reversal of the Earth’s magnetic field, it watched the

Age of Resurgence, it fought Man’s wars for him and even, in the Domes, lived his life for him. It became

so powerful that it was able to observe practically everything that happened on Earth and, from this,

project what was going to happen in the future — or the If along, as it is more correctly called. Now, in

these Dying Years, the computer is still there, still observing, thinking and predicting, in countless

solar-powered centers all over Earth.

It is called the Rainbow.

I am called Alan-Blue-Cloud. In a way I am the Rainbow’s interpreter. I am one of the few remaining

beings who is able to operate a terminal, and I use this ability to draw true stories out of the computer;

stories of True Humans and Specialists, of aliens and Bale Wolves and the sad neotenites known cruelly

as Blubbers.

But true stories do not give the whole picture. During the later years of Earth people became dissatisfied

with bare facts, which are always a little dull when compared with fictions and legends. So, when it

seemed that Mankind was doomed forever to listen to the Truth, because that was all he could get out of

his terminals and cassettes, an old art-form was rediscovered.

And Romance returned to Earth.

It started with a few bards and minstrels — I will shortly tell you about one named Enriques de Jai’a.

They ignored the Rainbow and they used their eyes and ears, listened to rumors and legends and dying

old men. And they used their imagination, and their essential humanness. With these ingredients they

created a whole new history of Mankind; a tapestry of events which was passed on by word of

mouth — and so could never become dull, inflexible, or accurate.

It is called the Song of Earth.

HERE BEGINS THAT PART OF THE

SONG OF EARTH KNOWN TO MEN AS

“THE GIRL BORN TO GREATNESS”

Where a young felina

meets a wise woman,

hears of her future

and meets a young True Human whose name

will be linked with hers in the Ifalong.

Two

The World of Karina

“The fastest sailcar is the first to the rotted rail”

— Old sailway proverb.

Instantly, Karina knew her leg was broken.

Her body swung downwards and she grabbed the log with her right arm, checking her fall. As she hung

there, the pain began. The dark night brightened with her pain, so that for a moment she could see

nothing except a blinding redness, flaring like a furnace from a core of agony just below her knee.

She made no sound. Felinas don’t cry.

So they were tears of pain in her eyes, not weakness. She blinked and her vision cleared, and she

wriggled carefully, working her way onto the log until she lay along it, her foot trapped in the supporting

crutch, her legs outstretched. She saw the moon reflected from the long, smooth timber rail of the sailway

and, far in the distance on top of a hill, the bright glow of a signal tower. As she watched, the signal

blinked with moonlight.

That meant there was a sailcar coming.

For a moment she visualized the great car, white sails spread to catch the night breeze, trundling down

the track while she lay helpless. She tried to tug her foot free, but the movement sent a screaming current

of pain through her body and, for a moment, she blacked out.

She came to with a sense of great loneliness. Her alpaca tunic was wrapped around her waist, the ground

was three meters below, and the wind blew coldly over her as she lay exposed to the night’s silence. She

was lonely for her sisters but they were some distance down the track, far out of earshot, preparing a

harmless ambush for the Pegman. A joke which would cost Karina her life. Lying there in pain, she did

something which only she could.

She concentrated all her thoughts on her leg and she said, “Please don’t hurt so much. Pain, please go

away. Little Friends, wherever you are, please make my leg not hurt so much.…”

And her Little Friends helped her, whispering through the cells of her body, gathering about the wounded

nerve endings and the torn flesh and bone, and soothing. Not mending, because this was beyond their

power, but soothing so that the pain faded and Karina could think straight again.…

The sailway track consisted of three parallel rows of trimmed logs forming a simple monorail system

linking the coastal towns. The middle rail was the thickest and supported the weight of the cars. The

other two rails were placed higher, one on either side, and the lateral guidewheels of the sailcars pressed

against these. The whole structure marched along the coastal plains on X-shaped gantries; the running rail

resting in the crutch of the X and the guiderails pegged to the upper arms.

Karina’s foot was jammed between the running rail and the crutch. She pulled at it and twisted it until

warning twinges told her that even the Little Friends could not perform miracles. She lay back in despair.

Even if she had been able to free her foot, she could still die. She was a felina, and felino bones do not

heal readily.

So Karina the cat-girl lay on the sailway track and waited to die. She was eighteen years old and, by

human standards, very beautiful. She had the long supple limbs, the oval face and the slanting amber eyes

of her people. Only her hair was different, a startling rarity among felinos; red-gold, it fell about her

shoulders like fire. Karina, concentrating on her Little Friends to dull the pain, waited.

Then she felt measured footsteps pacing along the rail towards her.

“Karina? You are Karina, daughter of El Tigre?”

Karina sat up, staring at the tall figure which seemed to float towards her dressed all in black so that for

one fanciful moment she thought it was Death come to get her. It was a woman’s voice, soft yet with a

strangely lifeless quality as though the speaker had seen all the sadness of the Universe, and had been

unable to help.

“Yes, I’m Karina.”

As the woman stepped forward, the moonlight fell upon her face — and Karina flinched with horror. The

pallid flesh was seared and puckered with the Mark of Agni, the Fire-God.

“Give me your hand.”

But Karina jerked away, her stomach churning at the awful, unnatural evil of that face. The woman was

Cursed. Agni only touched those who sinned, and he made sure they stayed touched. So ran the

Kikihuahua Examples.… “No.… Get away from me,” she said. The woman was a True Human. She

could tell. There was an imperiousness about her manner.

“You’re trapped on a sailway track and you’ll die unless you can get free — and you won’t let me help

you.” The woman’s tone was wondering. “Do I frighten you that much?”

“I’m not afraid of anything!”

“Is it my face? It’s only a burn, you know. You see much stranger things in the jungle.”

“Go away!”

“So it’s because I’m a True Human.”

“All right — so it is! I’m a Specialist and you’re a True Human. There’s nothing we can do for each

other. Nothing we can say.”

“That’s your father speaking.”

“True Humans killed my mother!”

Now the woman said an odd thing. “It is beyond our powers to change the facts of the present, and even

the possibilities of the Ifalong can seldom be affected. But Karina — on certain happentracks of the

Ifalong you will be famous, and the minstrels will sing of you.”

The suggestion was ridiculous. “You mean, like the Pegman and his songs?” said Karina sarcastically.

“Don’t laugh about the Pegman’s songs. They’re important too, and in the distant future they’ll be a part

of the Song of Earth. All of human history will be told in songs like the Pegman’s.”

“How do you know this? Can you see into the future?”

“No, of course not. No normal human can. But the Dedo — my mistress — can foretell the Ifalong. It’s

no coincidence I’m here. Your accident was foreseen.”

A thread of fear ran down Karina’s spine. “You mean you could have prevented it?”

“No doubt I could, and on certain happentracks I did.” Cold eyes looked down at the cat-girl. “Just as

on certain happentracks you will live, and on others you will die.”

“H … happentracks? Like sailway tracks?”

“Different possibilities all existing at the same time.”

“Oh.” The rumbling was closer. Karina had a vision of her crushed body lying in the wake of a speeding

sailcar. Her arm would be swinging limply. “I … I can hear a sailcar coming. Can’t youdo something?”

“That depends on you, Karina.”

“For God’s sake, what do you want?”

“Your word.”

One leg would be lying on the ground below, severed. “You have it!” cried Karina.

“Karina, we live in a difficult year. It is a year of unpredictable, whirling happentracks. The Dedo

foresees this as the year when her great Purpose could come to nothing. You alone can ensure that the

Purpose will be fulfilled.”

“How? Just tell me, and I’ll do it!”

“You must do several things. At intervals before the end of the year you’ll be faced with difficult

decisions. It is essential to the Purpose that you take the right step every time.”

“How will I know?”

“I’ll be there to guide you. It won’t be easy for you, though.”

“I’ll do it!” shouted Karina frantically.

“Give me your solemn word, Karina.”

Karina composed herself and uttered the most sacred words a Specialist can utter; more sacred even

than the Kikihuahua Examples.

“I, Karina, swear by the bones of Mordecai N. Whirst that I will obey the commands of this True

Human.… Until the end of the year,” she added quickly. “Now, get me out of this!”

And suddenly, just for a moment, the woman was transformed and the humanity shone through. “You

poor child — I’m so sorry.” She placed a hand gently on Karina’s leg. “Just keep still, will you.” And she

reached inside her robe and took out a smooth, dark stone. It was shot with red flecks and totally

ordinary in appearance; and she held Karina’s leg straight, so that the bones were set.

Karina concentrated on the Little Friends, and felt nothing.

The woman drew the stone down Karina’s leg like a cold caress, and said, “You can move it, now.”

“That’s it?” Karina flexed her leg and was astonished to find the break appeared to be mended.

Cautiously she withdrew the Little Friends and they retreated into the recesses of her body, their work

done. There was no pain. It was as though the wound had never been. Now, with her new strength and

the handmaiden’s help, she was able to twist her foot free of the crutch. The skin was broken and it bled

slightly. “Can you use the stone again?” she asked.

“No. Your foot must bleed for a while to remind you not to do a stupid thing like this again. You’re

precious to the world, Karina.”

Karina asked, “What’s the Purpose you talked about?”

“You can’t know the details. If you did, you could destroy it. You are that important, Karina. But as for

the overall Purpose, it is directed towards ending the imprisonment of the greatest person the Earth has

ever known: Starquin, the Almighty Five-in-One.”

“Oh, just another religion.” Karina was disappointed.

They swung to the ground. Karina took a deep breath and looked around. Everything looked fresh and

new. For a moment something the woman had said touched her mind, and she wondered if she had

stepped into a brand-new happentrack, leaving her old self dying on the sailway.…

“I feel sogood ,” she said happily.

“How do you like your world, Karina?”

“I like it fine. I like the sun and the ocean, and the cars’ sails against the trees, and the mountains.… And

the felino camp, and,” her face glowed suddenly with anticipation, “the Tortuga Festival, and all the fun.”

“Have you ever thought there was anything else? Haven’t you ever wondered what might beoutside all

that?”

“Well, the fishermen tell of queer folk who live on rafts of weed out in the sea.… And the mountain

people talk about monsters in the jungle.…”

“No, I meanreally outside. Outside this little space and time. Imagine this, Karina. Imagine a million

worlds spinning in space, some with people just like us, some with people who don’t know what evil

means, some with people so evil that folk are scared even to give their planet a name — and all of those

people human. And imagine other creatures too, not human, with different customs.…”

“Like the kikihuahuas, you mean?”

“Yes, and more besides.”

“It’s all in the Examples.” Karina was suddenly impatient. A whole world was waiting for her. Maybe a

narrow world by this queer woman’s standards, but a world full of fun and excitement all the same.

“All right, I won’t keep you. Just remember, Karina. Every so often, I want you to look up at the stars

and to think of the Greataway, which is all the dimensions of Time and Space — which Mankind used to

travel through, thirty thousand years ago before he lost the will and the ability. The Greataway will be

rediscovered, and you may play your part. Always remember Starquin, and your promise.”

And the warmth faded from the woman’s voice, and her expression faded too; her face became hard and

the Mark of Agni showed again in mottled, livid scars.

“What’s your name?” asked Karina. “You didn’t tell me.”

The handmaiden didn’t reply.

“Who is the Dedo?”

“She is the flesh of Starquin — a part of his body in human form.”

“Wait! You haven’t —”

But the Dedo’s handmaiden was gone, gliding away into the night. For a moment Karina stood there,

shaken by the transformation; it was as though she’d been talking to two different women. Her mood of

exaltation faded and she shivered, and suddenly the night was cold and the stars hard and threatening,

bright terrible little eyes. The Greataway.…

So Karina summoned the Little Friends without quite realizing it; and this time they entered her mind and

soothed her. She began to walk north towards the distant black mound of Camelback, the wooded hill

where the ambush was to take place. Above her, the sailway track was silent. The approaching car had

stopped.

The man who wanted to change the past.

The Pegman — Enriques de Jaia’a, called Enri — was indulging in a curious private ritual. Balanced

precariously on the guiderail some six meters from the ground, he was flapping his single arm like a bird

and uttering screeches. There was no logical reason for him to do this. The idea had occurred to him a

few moments ago, so he had stopped the sailcar, climbed onto the rail, and surrendered himself to

irrationality.

“Har! Har! Har!” he shouted, and the cry was borne by the winds across the coastal plain and into the

foothills and the forest where the howler monkeys, hearing a faint strange sound, paused and looked up.

But the world didn’t change.

Enri climbed down, kicked his toe against the side of the sailcar fourteen times, took off the brake,

picked up the ropes and pulled in the boom. TheEstrella del Oeste began to move, jerkily. Enri

grimaced, squeezing up his eyes and sucking his teeth, and began to think of the Tigre grupo — the name

which people gave the headstrong sisterhood consisting of Karina, Runa, Teressa and, what was the

name of the quiet one? Saba.

Charming, vicious, lovely young inhuman girls who, he suspected, would ambush him tonight. Pity they

didn’t have a mother to keep them in check, or a brother to lend a little finesse to their outlandish

behavior.

But life would be dull without them.…

“I am the captain of the sailcarEstrella del Oeste! ” Enri shouted suddenly to a group of rheas feeding

harmlessly below the track. “I sail for distant cantons with a cargo of ripe tortuga which I will sell for

enough money to buy the moon. Or at least, the Sister of the Moon,” he conceded, his mind wandering

to a strange, gigantic dome-thing he’d once seen down the coast; a thing almost as big as a mountain, its

top lost in the clouds. “One day I will be rich!” he shouted. “I’ll buy my own sailcar! I’ll have a fleet of

sailcars!”

But theEstrella del Oeste didn’t even belong to him. It was an ancient Canton car, its days of fast

passenger work long over, a broken-down hulk with patched sails and frayed ropes eking out its last

years as a track maintenance vehicle. In its time it had held twenty passengers in its cylindrical hull, but

now the seats were gone, and the drapes and the luxuries, leaving only a bare cavern some ten meters

long filled with the tools of Enri’s trade: wooden pegs, mallets, rope, bone needles and thread, a shovel, a

flint spokeshave, and several barrels of stinking tumpfat for greasing the rails and bearings. Enri’s living

quarters were there too; a tiny cabin with a bed, a table and a few possessions.

Enri rode on deck, behind the car’s single mast, gripping the mainsheet — the rope which controlled the

angle of the sail to the wind — like any crewman on one of the prestigious Company craft, controlling the

sailcar’s speed by the tension of the rope and by occasional judicious application of the brake. The wind

was light tonight, and he didn’t have to use the brake much.

TheEstrella del Oeste lumbered on while the Pegman dreamed of changing the course of history, and a

small part of his mind — the professional part — gauged the state of the track by the feel of the deck’s

motion through the seat of his pants. Soon the car slowed. He had reached the long climb past

Camelback.

The wind chose that moment to slacken.

“Huff! Huff!” He shouted the traditional crewman’s cry and blew pointlessly into the limp sail. The wind

dropped altogether.

The car was rolling to a halt.

He stood, a tall, thin figure in the moonlight, and shook the boom, inviting the wind. His mood of elation

had evaporated. Now he saw himself as a broken-down True Human in a broken-down car. “God damn

everything to hell!” he yelled. It would be morning before he reached Rangua at this rate.

The car stopped. He swung one-handed to the running rail and jammed a chock under the rear wheel to

prevent the car rolling back down the grade and losing him what little ground he’d gained. Walking back

to a crutch, he swung his mallet to check the security of the fastenings.

The mallet struck the crutch with a solid thunk. In the distance, the moon reflected pale silver on the sea.

“Sabotage!” he suddenly shouted, driving his fist at the sky. “I’m a saboteur and I’m going to remove a

couple of pegs from this crutch, so that it will collapse when the dawn car from Torres hits it. Ten

important people will die in the splintered wreckage. The southbound track will be damaged too, and the

next car from Rangua will pile into the mess. More people will die!”

Obsessed by his vision of destruction he sat down, his imagination racing. The Canton Lord would be on

the Torres car. Enri would be waiting near and would pull the Lord free, the instant before Agni struck

the wreck into flames. The Lord would give him land and Specialists, whom he would set to building

cars. Monkey-Specialists, with deft fingers and tiny minds.

And then.… And then he would search the whole world for Corriente, his love. And he would find her,

and she would cling to him, and they would live happily ever —

The wind was blowing.

He walked slowly back to theEstrella del Oeste. There was no hurry, and he was lingering over the

dream.

The rail trembled. A dry bearing squeaked like a rat.

Corriente, so warm, so loving.…

TheEstrella del Oeste was moving!

It was impossible — yet the dark bulk of the old car was receding from him, wheels rumbling on the

running rail, rigging straining to the fresh breeze. He began to run, awkwardly, one-armed and

unbalanced on the narrow rail slippery with tumpfat.

“Yaah!” he shouted, like a felino trying to halt a shruglegger.

A burst of clear, feminine laughter answered him. Now he shouted at himself, calling himself a fool. The

Tigre grupo had outwitted him again. He could see them now — four girls, leaning on the after-rail,

waving. They had sheeted the sail in tight and now, for all he knew, were going to take theEstrella all the

way to Rangua South Stage. “Stop!” he yelled.

“Not for a man who dreams of sabotage!” came the cry. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself — and

you a pegman, too!”

Damned felinas! He ran on, muttering. Teressa was at the bottom of this. She’d put them up to it, the little

bitch. Saba was too timid and Runa would see the consequences, and Karina … Karina was too nice.

But Teressa could sway them all. She would grow up to be abandida , that girl.

Somebody must have touched the brake — Karina probably — because he heard a scraping sound and

the sailcar slowed. He reached the door and swung himself inside, blundered through the tools and stink

Michael Coney - Cat Karina

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