Power Lines Part 2

Then a wet, warm silky form twisted about her and broached the surface of the water, silver eyes gleaming at her with a challenge and a sensuousness that were so perfectly "Sean" that even his selkie form did not dismay her.

"Oh you!" she said, laughing and splas.h.i.+ng water at him. "Do you automatically change the minute you hit water?"

A pleased murmur came from the throat of Sean-Selkie as he continued to weave against her body, his furry touch arousing unusual sensations in her.

"Oh, is that all you can say?" Then Yana gave a ki-yi of amus.e.m.e.nt. "You can't talk as a selkie? She chortled and, using both hands, sent a wave to flood him.

He dove, not to get away from the water, but to caress her where she least expected it. Startled, she tried to maneuver away from him, but his sinuous form made evasion impossible. He was the swimmer, she the paddler.

But she caught him firmly by a fold of silly wet skin and pulled him to the surface.

Look, mate, I don't mind what form you take. I don't even mind what you do in that form . . ." Sean-Selkie made a pleased purring sound, the silver eyes dancing, as she went on: "But listen up! It's the man I want, not the seal. And we do have things to talk about. So, if you can't talk in this form . . . especially if you can't . . . well, you know what I mean .. . change back."

The selkie nudged her, in a rather sweetly apologetic way, toward the falls, and swam sinuously alongside as she began to swim, feeling very ungraceful beside him, in the direction he indicated. He obviously restrained himself to keep pace with her. He was so graceful, so powerful, and the touch of his fine fur against her was unfairly sensual. She increased the speed of her own stroke. She couldn't wait to get to the privacy of the place behind the falls: she couldn't wait to get him back into a useful form.

He dove under the falls and she followed, escaping the battering of the water. They surfaced together but Sean-Selkie seemed to ooze up the bank and stood there, proud in his altered form, so that she could admire him. All of him. Then he shook himself and the transformation she had seen once before, near the cave where they had taken refuge from the volcano, began.

"I get it, Sean," she murmured, a trifle apologetic. "You wanted me to see you in all your glory. And you are glorious," she added, smiling as the man emerged. She went to him, stroking skin instead of fur, and twining herself around him as his selkie self had done to her in the water.

"Give me a moment to adjust, will you? he said, laughing, holding her tightly against his wet skin.

Yana gave a sniff. "As far as I'm concerned, you are adjusted." She glanced down significantly.

"Ah, but a selkie makes love differently than a man," he said, murmuring into her ear and nibbling her throat.

"How differently? I'm game."

It was decidedly different, wildly sensual, and extremely satisfying, and took rather more time than she had a.s.sumed, knowing something of "animal" behavior. She hadn't known nearly enough to prepare her for all of the loving possibilities of Sean's dual nature, both animal and man, but he understood himself thoroughly and was most adept at using all of his resources to guide her into uncharted channels of pleasure. It took her a long time to slow her pulse and heart rate and come, slightly unwillingly, back to the other reason they had gone off.

"We have to do our part in this scheme, you know," she said, looking up at Sean's face. They were still interlocked; it was comforting and comfortable and she didn't really want to break the mood, but the dutiful part of her character prodded her into "active duty" now that the R & R was over.

''Which scheme?" he asked, smiling lasciviously down at her. "All right, all right," he said, easily warding off the fist she shot up at him. His hands were very strong. "First we have to find out where Johnny Greene and Rick O'Shay are. Would Fiske Junior have it in for them for their part in seeing you all got into the special place?"

She sighed. "That's what we have to find out. If Adak'll let me use the comm unit, I can probably roust them out of wherever they are-BOQ on s.p.a.ceBase, probably."

"Both Johnny and Rick believe in Petaybee," Sean said, musing aloud, his fingers playing an idle tattoo on her shoulder, "or they wouldn't have helped us then. So, perhaps they'll help us again. How hard would it be for them to abscond with a copter or two?"

Yana shrugged. "Both struck me as pretty clever. Copter pilots tend to be a tad devious. If they could stash enough fuel in a cache somewhere, they could help us and still appear to be on duty at the base. No matter how you slice it, it's going to lake a few days for Marmion and that bald buzzard to organize themselves and their escort, so we have a few days. Unless Torkel clamps down on all s.p.a.ceBase activity."

"How can he do that when the place is in such a mess? They've still got folks to rescue from mud slides and stuff."

"Good point, Sean, so the sooner we get in touch with Johnny and Rick, the better. We can provide for our expeditions before Torkel knows we're setting them up."

"Fiske Junior doesn't strike me as a forgetful man. Would he have thought of that, and slapped a hold on all unauthorized copter runs?"

Yana thought. "If he has, Whittaker still carries more clout than Junior. I know Whittaker will help as much as he can." Then she laughed, her chest heaving against his. "Junior! Don't ever call Torkel that in his hearing, Sean."

Sean's eyes sparkled with malice. "No? When we need every advantage we've got?"

The expression on his face, her current position, and the word "advantage" warned Yana that she'd better curtail this session right now or they'd lose a lot more time. She hoped they hadn't dallied too long already. But it had been . . . remarkable. Resolutely she pushed him away and got to her feet.

"Adak is our first stop, Sean," she said in a don't-contradict-me tone.

"Yes, ma'am, no, ma'am. As you say, ma'am."

She gave him one long look in her sternest mode before she realized that this respite might have to last both of them a long time.

She went into his arms. "Oh, Sean Shongili Selkie, I do love you so much!"

"I, you, alannah," he said softly and kissed her. But it was a kiss of exceeding gentleness and no pa.s.sion what so ever. He, too, accepted the inevitable.

"We can do a lot together," she offered as a token apology.

"We already have," he said, laughing. But his hand her back guided her firmly out of their private retreat.

Coaxtl must be a very bad animal, Goat-dung realized, or he would have devoured such a wicked person as herself instead of sharing his catch of small game with her as if she were a cub. Maybe Coaxtl wasn't male. Goat-dung sneaked a look. It was hard to tell. The cat was extremely furry, with extra tufts on the ears and a thick, bushy tail. Its coat was dense and very soft-looking; the coloring white with large spots of different sizes, according to the muscle they were on: long rectangular ones on the neck, big circular ones on the shoulders, smaller, more regular ones on the abdomen, all shaded from gray to black, blurred and clouded by the length and thickness of the fur. The paws were also extremely large, though the face was sweet, with large golden eyes and a black nose and black-lipped mouth that seemed to be perpetually smiling. The cat looked female enough to Goat-dung, and there was nothing obvious showing under the belly to convince her otherwise, so she decided that she knew the reason why the cat hadn't eaten her. It was because Coaxtl was a mother cat, and probably she had lost her kittens and was willing to accept Goat-dung as a subst.i.tute. That must be why. The cat certainly showed no compunction about killing anything else.

With a mighty leap and a swipe of a muscular foreleg, a deft hook of the paw and a single economical crunch, the cat had bagged each victim-three snow geese and a brace of rabbits. When the final kill was made, Coaxtl sat with the rabbits at her feet and looked expectantly at Goat-dung, who took it she was being invited to partake.

"I-I can't eat raw meat," she said. Even hungry as she was, she really didn't think she could. Life was hard in the flock, but they plucked their birds and skinned their animals before cooking. She looked around at the awful open-ness of the mountain meadows and thought of the Shepherd Howling and the beating she would get if she was found-and, worse, having to be the Shepherd's wife and all that meant. "Besides, I don't want to be in the open. Can't we go back to the cave?"

Coaxtl gave her a long golden-eyed stare. Goat-dung wished the cat would speak to her again-not that the beast spoke actual words out loud. But Goat-dung heard words in her mind, and while the big cat's conversation was terse, it was conversation, and it was not angry or accusatory, which was the sort Goat-dung was used to. It wasn't that the cat liked her precisely, but Coaxtl did not so far appear to dislike her. Of course, people in the flock never said that they disliked her. On the contrary, they all claimed to love her and said they were pointing out the error of her ways so that she would not become a victim to the evils of the world, but they did indicate, by deed and word, that they thought the task of trying to save her was quite hopeless.

She followed the cat back along the swollen stream bed to the cavern. The snow had not all melted by any means, and now, suddenly, the air was colder, and the light drizzle that had been falling throughout the day turned to sleet, then snow. Only partially dressed in wet rags, Goat-dung began s.h.i.+vering so hard that she had difficulty walking.

The cave was warmer, perhaps warmed by the water pooling in its center. But it was not warm enough to combat the temperature dropping as night approached. She needed a fire to keep her from freezing as well as to cook her food.

Coaxtl took the rabbits in her mouth and hopped lightly onto the ledge, looking down at Goat-dung, who stood knee deep in the pool on the floor. The birds were clutched in her hand.

Coaxtl had already torn the head off one of the rabbits. Goat-dung looked back up defiantly.

"Well, I'm sorry, cat, but this water leaves me no place to stand and no place to eat the birds even if I wanted to eat them uncooked with all the feathers on. I know I'm spoiled and selfish, but I'm also cold, and I think if I don't have a fire I really will die."

This time the cat did speak. Youngling-I will not call you Goat-dung if you are in my charge. That is no fit name for a cub. Names are important and having yours, I am charged not to eat you, but really, who would want to eat someone named Goat-dung anyway? You must choose another name. I digress . . . Youngling, you seem to have trouble making up your mind what will kill you. Out on the plains you feared the openness. In here you say you are cold and cannot take the water. Probably beyond in the cave it is warmer. You could explore, like any other cub, and leave me in peace to finish the meal I have so graciously provided.

"Beyond lies the Great Monster," Goat-dung said, and then realized that she didn't care. "Very well, I will go alone, but it is dark back there and I may become lost and die, as well."

You are inconveniently frail, the cat growled, abandoning the bird to hop down from the ledge with a splash. Follow me. I will not endure this string of constant complaints.

Goat-dung knew she was disgusting and whining and weak, but at least Coaxtl had not yet cuffed her, even with sheathed claws, much less bitten or clawed her. That was an improvement over the Shepherd and his flock.

The cat padded rapidly ahead, and for a time Goat-dung could follow by the splas.h.i.+ng of the big paws in the pool; but then her own, now bare, feet touched dryness, and the cat's pads were nothing but a whisper that soon disappeared. "Coaxtl! Where are you?" she called. "I can't see you."

Can you not? Silly cub. I'm right in front of your eyes.

"Yes, but I can't see in the dark."

Can you not? the cat asked, her voice in Goat-dung's head genuinely surprised. No fur; a stupid name, no claws, puny teeth that can't bite through feathers, and half-blind as well. You would have been better off if I'd eaten you, child.

"I-I suppose so," Goat-dung said. "I know I'm a terrific bother but if you are going to help me, and you don't know how stupid and weak I really am, then I thought you wouldn't know how . . ." She floundered, at a loss for words, realizing she didn't deserve help, that she should have gratefully accepted any tiny thing the cat offered her, and that all of her talk only proved that what the flock said about her was absolutely right. But really, she had no idea at all what to do with the birds, and the Shepherd had always been very specific about the dangers of eating uncooked meats.

There's no help for it then, the cat said. Take hold of my tail, but don't pull, or I may kill you without thinking about it.

Coat-dung groped with outstretched hands and felt a brush of air go by her twice before her palm encountered a st.u.r.dy furred appendage, less like the flexible tail of a smaller beast and more like a child's arm in a fur coat. She gently took hold of the end of it, and the cat proceeded at I a slower pace.

How long they walked, she had no idea. They descended, twisted in the corridors, and climbed, only to descend again on the uneven flooring. Several times she b.u.mped into large columns, some coming up from the floor, some hanging low enough to bang her head, and she cried out for the cat to stop. In order to keep from pulling the tail, she had to let go of it.

Those are the teeth of the cave, the cat explained. They rise up from the bottom or clamp down from the top. Fortunately, the cave bites very, very slowly and we moving creatures are quite fast by comparison, so we never get eaten.

"Never?"

Not in my lifetime anyway, or that of my mother or my mother's mother or in her memory.

"Then you know that the cave is a Great Monster, too?"

The cave and all caves are Home, the cat said simply. And Home has what one needs. If we keep looking, we will find what you need here, too.

And much later, Coaxtl sat down and said, Ah. When the cat sat down, Goat-dung was forced to drop the tail, but that didn't matter then, because the cave was filled with a light of its own, and a warmth as well, that seemed to emanate from fissures in the wall.

Goat-dung recoiled and the cat turned and glared at her with eyes bright and hot as fires, s.h.i.+ning like the jewels the Shepherd adorned himself with on his birthday. Coaxtl looked extremely fierce then, but all she said was, If you're not going to cook those birds after all this, then give them to me and I will eat them.

"No, I will eat them, once I cook them," Goat-dung said, clasping the geese to her and turning slightly so the cat couldn't swipe them away with one big paw.

Despite her fears, despite her sure knowledge that she was in the belly of the Great Monster, Goat-dung felt less afraid than she had before. Here it was warm and light with a soft glow. A small circle of rock in the center of the floor kindled briefly into a true flame. Maybe it would open beneath her feet and devour her. Perhaps it was a trap, but it reminded her of the cookfires and that she was truly very hungry indeed, and tired, as well. She walked to it, sat down, and began plucking the geese, while Coaxtl fell asleep beside the fire, her breath rumbling contentedly.

Goat-dung gutted and roasted the bird on the rocks beside the fire. Looking down into it, she could see no coals, no bottom to the hole in fact, and that frightened her; but the rock was very warm by the fire, and the bird cooked slowly, so she ate the outer bits a little at a time. Then she crawled over to the cat and fell asleep, dreaming the sweetest dreams she could remember having: of her mother and of her father's voice and another cave.

She dreamed on and on, almost fearing to wake, until the soft furry support beside her was withdrawn and she slipped back against the cave floor with a thump. When she sat up, she realized that Coaxtl, too, was sitting up, listening to the voices that seemed to emanate from the walls of the cave.

Chapter 4.

Mud is a great leveler and, although the military had put down plastic boardwalks so people could get around the muddy streets of Kilcoole, mud did provide a disguise of sorts. One mud-spattered person looked like any other, local or imported. As plastered with this camouflage as everyone else, Yana and Sean had no trouble reaching Adak's snocle shed. His precious vehicles were now in the loft, and one battered antique 4x4 was parked outside.

"It's not an official one," Yana said, peering at the sides for any s.p.a.ceBase markings.

"It's Adak's, all right. I hate to think when they last made those, or what Adak traded to get a hold of one, but somehow he keeps it running," Sean said, and, his hand on her back again, he propelled her quickly toward the mechanic's crawl-through set in the main door. He paused only briefly, listening. The only voice within earshot was Adak's, so they pushed through and into the smell, now redolent with oil and fuel and mud.

Adak turned from his comm station to see who his visitors were and his face lit up.

"Yes sir, I got the message. Only official communications. Right ye be! Over." He lifted the ear piece and rubbed exaggeratedly. "My, that man does go on. Slainte, Sean, Yana. Good to see you; what can I do to help? He glanced down at the comm unit and sniffed expressively.

Thanks, Adak," Sean said, grinning as he recognized the man's tacit willingness to disobey the orders he had just been given.

"We need to get in touch with Johnny Greene and Rick O' Shay."

"They're airborne," Adak said. Special missions."

Sean and Yana exchanged glances.

"What frequency are they on?" Yana asked.

Adak grinned more broadly. "Happen I just got word of 'em." He settled the ear piece again and held his finger over the keyboard. "Who'll I get ya first? Johnny or Rick?

''I'd say Rick," Sean replied.

Yana and Sean took turns explaining to Rick what was going down, what they wanted him to do, and how they thought he could accomplish it. Rick had already heard enough rumors to know almost as much as they did-and he was willing to help.

"h.e.l.l, all I'm doing right now is figuring out what roads are pa.s.sable. A lot of equipment might need to be moved," he said, his voice taking on a gloomy tone. "Johnny's up and doing the same thing to the west. We've both had to swear allegiance and die-for-it oaths to Intergal, but s.h.i.+t, we crossed everything we could while taking it.' The customary lilt was back in Rick's voice. "Lemme get Johnny in on this where there aren't any ears to hear us."

"They've been monitoring you, then?" Yana asked, not too surprised.

"Not on this frequency, and I did a little twiddling with the bug they put in the cabin so you don't have to worry. Soon's Adak came on, I disconnected a wire. Shouldn't leave it loose much longer. But I'll leave word with Adak when Johnny and I've done what's needful. Might even get in one trip tonight if I can finagle it."

"You're top of the finaglers at s.p.a.ceBase," Adak said approvingly. "Code it?"

"Better. When I come on, ask me the mud level on the road to Tanana Bay. If I say it's ankle deep, that means Yana and Sean can meet me where Uncle Seamus collects water. If I say it's knee high, I'm having trouble. I'll get back to you soon's I can. Over and out."

"h.e.l.l," Adak said, rubbing his ear thoughtfully, "it's more than ankle deep and knee high everywhere. And I don't mean just the mud."

"Keep yourself out of trouble if you can, Adak. We need you at the comm unit," Sean said.

Adak laughed. "Those new guys don't know doodly about this here comm unit. It don't take kindly to rough hands and always goes all static and wheeing." He grinned. "Only old Adak knows its ways."

"We'll stop in at Clodagh's now, if you should need us," Sean said, guiding Yana toward the back exit.

The less-frequented paths actually showed some st.u.r.dy gra.s.s growth as they made their way behind houses and detoured back into the forest to avoid the new Intergal housing. One of the cats met them halfway to Clodagh's, and the tone of its greeting suggested that it was pleased to see them.

"No trouble?" Yana asked, not quite sure she was interpreting the creature accurately.

Sean grinned, but he kept looking at the ground as they went from mud to snow to the new gra.s.s. "No, no trouble. Except . . ." He frowned. "We might just have the longest growing season ever and we've got to plan, also, to take advantage of that! It could prove crucial."

Yana felt a s.h.i.+ver up her spine and agreed with him whole heartedly at the word "crucial," knowing that Sean and the others were concerned about what would happen if Intergal cut the planet off from outside supply lines entirely. Though Petaybee was largely self-sufficient, the growing season usually was too short to provide enough fruits and vegetables and other plant-derived products. A longer growing season would mean less reliance on outside sources-and yes, that certainly could be crucial.

Evening was closing in as they approached Clodagh's house. They could hear banging and pounding and the sound of boards being s.h.i.+fted, and Yana grinned: someone was doing some of the much-needed repairs of a structure that had been held together by ice in the winter but needed nails and mortar now that the weather was warmer. All over the village people were engaged in similar pursuits. Yana peered around the corner of the house where all the banging was, to tell Clodagh they were there, but as Sean opened the door, she saw that Clodagh was inside. From the look of the interior, the big woman had also been thinking along the same lines as Sean.

The kitchen was even more filled than usual with good smells, but these did not emanate from the pot that normally sat simmering on her stove. Instead, the earthy odors came from tiers of warming trays raised above the stove and stacked with stones. On the trays were tiny clay pots holding shoots of greenery, and it was from these the smells came. The kitchen table was also covered with little pots and soil and bundles of dried flowers and piles of seeds.

"Slainte, Sean, Yana," she said, looking up from where she sat spread-legged on the floor, her skirts hiked up above her moon-shaped pale while knees and colorful hand-knit stockings. Between her knees and her feet and all around her were more pots, more seed packets, and trays of potting compost. Inspecting with critical sniffs all the interesting items laid out to be worked on were various members of the orange-marmalade cat battalion. Two had curled up to sleep in one potting tray not quite large enough for their bulk: they spilled over like immense orange alien plant-forms. "Did you two think of any songs?"

"Quite a few," Sean said, fondly leering at Yana.

'Nothing we could repeat in polite company though," Yana said. "How about you?"