This month we’re bringing back another oldie but a goodie – “Cat Leaps” – a time travel tale with a real heart. Available to read here for free for a week.
If you wanted your own copy to keep, you can grab it from the website here, or follow the Universal Book Link to get it from your favorite store in ebook ($2.99)or print ($12.99).
Cat Leaps – Blurb
Supreme yarnspinner, Sean Monaghan crafts delightful and dark stories, with a twist of humor.
Master time operative Ari explores a dense and dank jungle, staying just ahead of destructive rebels bent on an empire’s downfall. Caught in a tangled web of deceit and deception, Ari must battle the warp and weft of timestreams messed up beyond recognition.
With her companion animal, Pix, an enhanced margay, Ari needs to take control just to survive the day.
Another ripping time travel tale from the author of the Wildest Skies series.
[Cover image by Grandfailure]
Note – trigger warning – includes scene that may cause emotional distress.
Cat Leaps
Chapter 1
The dark of the hot forest seemed to expand across Ari as she adjusted his position. Her bones ached. Around her, the ancient, ruined harvester combine’s chassis creaked.
The journalist smiled at Ari and went ahead and filed the story. The journalist’s palm gave that familiar swooping sound of departing information.
“I wish you hadn’t done that,” Ari said. Her hands still felt sticky from blood. Her denim shirt stiffening where Acala’s blood had drenched her.
His blood.
Ari trembled. None of it felt real.
From the nearby forest came the hoots of recently escaped monkeys. Humid air rolled into the combine’s windows, bringing with it the smells of old corn chaff from the machine’s previous incarnation.
Ari didn’t like the cramped control room, nor the uncomfortable seats, but at least it got the journalist away from Acala’s body. As if that would have made a difference to the story.
How odd that she would think of that when he lay below in the makeshift fort. Dead. Bled out.
Now Ari had the shakes. She’d known Doctor Acala since she’d been a kid. Her Pappy. Uncle, almost.
“You gave me a quote,” the journalist said. No older than Ari–well-under thirty–the woman had her thick hair trimmed into a halfway-down-the-ear bob that reminded Ari of a mushroom.
“We weren’t done talking,” Ari said. “You shouldn’t file before I’ve given all the facts.” The fact was, Doctor Acala was dead and no amount of journalism would bring him back.
“Well,” the journalist said. “I’m allergic to cats and I need this over and done.”
“Pix is a margay,” Ari said. “She doesn’t shed like a domestic.”
The journalist shrugged. “A cat is a cat.” She stood and exited the cramped room, boot soles clanging on the steel decking.
Pix leapt onto Ari’s lap. The margay kneaded Ari’s quadriceps.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Ari said.
“Like what?” Pix said. “We screwed-up the assignment. We need to return to Entebbe for our debriefing.”
Ari sighed. Through the windows she saw the journalist leaving, strapped to a personal jetpack. An older model. Easy to fly. Even Ari herself held an expired license in the type.
“I don’t know about ‘debriefing’,” Ari said. “It’ll be more like a ‘reaming’.”
Chapter 2
The hover carried Ari and Pix over the mountains at near-bullet speed. The machine’s engines sang a long, low drone. Pix pressed up to the windows, watching the craggy, ice-laden rocks sweep by.
Once these mountains had been bare rock, but decades of cooling atmosphere had left sparse ice sheets and snowfields. Ecosystems and environments all tumbled and changed.
“Funny,” Pix said. “So hot back there, but here there’s ice.”
“Scatty cat.” Ari tried to concentrate on how she would respond to Luther and Wei. Her thoughts in disarray. Just a job, but her feelings intruded. She couldn’t let them show.
“There are shapes in the rocks between the ice,” Pix said. “One looked like you. With a grumpy face.”
Ari didn’t reply. It would be nice if Pix curled up on Ari’s lap. Comforting.
“Hungry now,” Pix said. Stretching, she grabbed the back of the seat and climbed quickly up. Ari knew Pix missed trees. Missed hunting.
Pix’s speckled pelt shimmered in the hover’s concentrated lights. Small, even for a margay, she kept lithe and agile clambering around Ari’s Cairo apartment.
Ari didn’t like to admit, but she’d bought far too much cat-climbing equipment. Now she had to duck through the door from the dining room to the galley kitchen.
“Coming up on change-over,” the pilot called from the cockpit. “Might want to strap up. I have a reputation for rapid deceleration and hard landings.”
Ari had met this pilot before. Margaret. She didn’t remember Ari. Margaret actually liked hard landings and rapid deceleration. Pushing the hover to its limits. Passengers beware.
“Sorry things didn’t work out for you this time,” Margaret said.
“‘Didn’t work out’,” Pix whispered. “Acala died. Some reporter told every single person in the whole world. ‘Didn’t work out’ doesn’t cover it.”
“That’s what I meant,” Margaret said. She looked around flicking up her visor. She smiled. “Let me know, Ari, if there’s anything I can do.”
“I…” Ari didn’t know how to respond. Surprised Margaret knew her name. Surprised, too, at the offer.
But how could anyone do anything about this?
“How many assignments have you had so far?” Margaret said. “Since you took up this role?”
“Three.” Ari had been on six shadowing ops before going out on her own.
“It’s not looking good, is it?”
Ari didn’t reply. Outside of Tokyo, two jackal-traders had killed their animals rather than be caught.
No evidence. No conviction.
But Ari knew what had happened.
Right here in Kenuganda, four kids with a spiral snake that could look into the future, shot a woman who refused payment. The snake had escaped. The woman had died two days later in the Kampala Teaching and General Hospital. She’d never regained consciousness.
All while Ari had been investigating.
Not Acala.
Murdered before she could get his smuggling data. She trembled at the thought. She remembered him holding her close when Mim had died. She’d been too old–eighteen–for hugs, but it had been perfectly comforting. Fatherly.
You can call me Ruhn now, he’d said, ‘Pappy’ sounds took kidsy.
Ruhn Acala. Ari ended up more comfortable calling him ‘Doctor Acala’. Everyone else did.
Luther didn’t know about any of that.
“Tell you what,” Margaret said. “You want to get away for a weekend’s R’n’R, I can fly you somewhere. You want to go to Italy? Paris?”
“Costa Rica,” Pix said.
Margaret laughed. “Your cat has a real sense of humor, you know?”
“I wasn’t joking,” Pix said.
Chapter 3
A robot rickshaw carried Ari and Pix through the streets. Few potholes. A roader must have been through in the last month or so and smoothed and filled. Entebbe’s roadways these days seemed much more fragile than when Ari had been a kid.
“Dried mangos?” the robot rickshaw said. Its fat pneumatic tires swished across the near-smooth cobbles. “Effervescent drinks, non-alcoholic? Mixed-salad wrap?”
“Raw kidney?” Pix said.
“Not on my menu.”
“Typical.”
Pressing to the sidewalks, buildings with crenellations and fancy trim leaned back. Latest architectural styles called for a kind of blended Aztec-Tibetan temple look, with high, small windows, and steps. Whole blocks remodeled themselves. Others didn’t have the energy budget.
“Sorry,” the robot rickshaw said, slowing. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”
Ari saw what it was sorry about.
Six people. Black uniforms. Guns.
Ari’s slimshot held three rounds. Mostly she worked by negotiation.
She wondered if she’d actually shot the assassin, Doctor Acala might still be alive.
She closed her eyes. She couldn’t afford to think like that. Too easy to become bound-up in ‘if-only’ loops.
If only he’d never gone after the smugglers.
The rickshaw came to a stop.
“Leave this to me,” Pix said. She bounded through the side door.
“Pix!” Ari called after her. Pix naturally wanted to protect her. Ari didn’t like the odds here.
The margay drew the attackers’ attention.
Ari stepped out the other side.
The group shouted instructions to each other.
“Sorry, sorry,” the rickshaw said. “Please ensure you pay the fare. You have been tagged.”
“Wait,” Ari told it. “We’re not at our destination.”
“Weapons in the vicinity,” the rickshaw said. “You have been tagged.” It backed up. Spun around. Sped away.
Ari cursed.
“Language,” Pix said.
The street felt empty. As if the neighborhood knew something was up.
“We’ve got ocelots,” Pix said.
Ari saw them. Not companion sentients. Just well-trained. Riding in back harnesses.
“What’s the story?” Ari said.
Three of the ocelots leapt down. They looked like bigger versions of Pix. Down on her haunches, Pix hissed at them.
The people pulled out their guns.
“Let’s talk this through,” Ari said. “I don’t even know what you want.”
A vehicle appeared around the corner. Behind the group. Armored. Coming fast.
Shouted commands. The group split in two.
The ocelots jumped back into their harnesses. The group converged on a blank wall. Flickered away into nothing.
“See that?” Pix said. “See that? Some kind of transference. They’re using… I don’t know. But they got away.”
The vehicle pulled to a stop. A door in the side opened.
“Jennifer?” Ari said. The woman’s grin could light a city. Today she had her hair in tight cornrows.
“That’s me,” Jennifer said. “Looked like a spot of bother.”
Ari sighed.
“Guess you didn’t need that after your last few days.”
“Didn’t really. Thanks for coming along in your shining armor.”
“Shining?” Jennifer looked along the vehicle’s pitted and dusty side. “Hardly sh… oh. A metaphor. Right. Jump up. Let’s get you to your debriefing.”
“Reaming,” Pix said. “Apparently.”
Chapter 4
Luther strode into his office, waving at Ari to stay seated. Wei lay curled asleep on the big old oak desk.
The room’s square footage had to be bigger than Ari’s whole apartment. Luther had a rubber tree in a pot in the corner by the wide window. Pix clung to the big leaves about four feet from the floor.
Outside, a plethora of aerials stuck up from old and tired-looking extruded and printed buildings. Hardly any of the Aztec-Tibetan influence visible.
Luther loomed in the space. He stood over six feet tall. “You know that journalist you spoke with? Laina Schmidt. She’s jacking for a raise. Circulation’s up for their paper.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Can you tell your cat to get down from my tree, please?”
“Pix,” Ari said. “Come on. Wei doesn’t bite.”
Wei, Luther’s retired lynx, lifted his head at the sound of his name, fluffy ears flicking.
“She’s not going to catch any monkeys in here,” Wei said, curling up again.
Luther sat in a throne-like chair behind the desk. He scrolled with his hands and an acetate display snapped up. “I need your report.” The display filtered in a blank form, facing Ari.
“How about, ‘we did our best’? What about the ambush?”
“Just include that in your report. Some of the gangs are getting annoying. I heard Jennifer picked you up all right.”
“Nick of time,” Pix said.
“Dramatic!” Wei said, without looking up.
“I don’t like going out solo,” Ari said.
“What you mean is, you feel like your training hasn’t prepared you for these kinds of incidents.” Luther opened a drawer and took out some giblet biscuits. He rattled a few across the desk to Wei. The lynx didn’t move.
“Getting ambushed right here in town,” Ari said. “This should be the safest spot.”
“Things are changing. Fast. Anyway, isn’t that why you set up home in Cairo?”
“Cairo’s not much better,” Pix said.
“I need more hand-to-hand combat training,” Ari said. “Pix needs strategies for handling multiple animals. I should get more time on the shooting range. And I should have a better sidearm. Three bullets will not make many holes.”
“Three,” Wei said.
“Which doesn’t help us if there are six attackers,” Pix said.
“Your points are all valid,” Luther said, “but we’re working on a very tight timeline here.”
“I know.”
“I’m sure I’ve told you before how important you two are. There aren’t many feline sentients. The gene only comes back on occasion.”
“I’ve heard.”
“And the bond you and Pix share, that’s rare.” Luther reached out to scratch Wei’s head. “Pix’s senses, your smarts. And we’re always looking for funding. We don’t have government resources, just occasional government contracts. We can’t lose this one.”
“Another assignment?” Ari sat forward, frowning. “Was that my debriefing?” She didn’t feel that she was so new to the organization that she didn’t know how debriefings went.
A long list of questions. Especially about the agent’s state of mind. Offers of days off. Usually at a beach. Hyderabad or Ibiza.
Margaret knew what she was talking about.
Luther shook his head. “You’re still on assignment. Doctor Acala ran a series of very important programs.”
“I know.”
Luther went on. “Radiation treatments for those Russians on the Venusian orbitals. Water pumps for the disenfranchised Martian groups. Sight restoration right here in Kenuganda. Let me tell you, after that retinal virus, we need a whole lot of that.”
Ari put her hand flat on the table and let her palm datastream into the form. It filled quickly.
“You mean this was a political killing?” she said, trying not to let her emotions show. She felt tingly. “Someone’s trying to…” Ari trailed off, unsure what would be gained exactly. Some trade rebalance against the confederation. She realized the debriefing continued now.
The display flashed and the form faded. The display itself evaporated. Ari took her hand back.
“It doesn’t matter,” Luther said. “We’ve identified the threat source. We need you to go down there and prevent Acala’s assassination.”
“Um…” Ari said. “What did I miss?”
“Acala’s dead already,” Pix said. She turned and climbed headfirst down the rubber tree’s narrow trunk. Showing off in front of Wei.
“He is,” Luther said. “So we’re going to flicker you to yesterday. See if we can’t get ahead of this thing.”
Ari sighed.
“No, no, no,” Pix said. She’d reached the floor. She stretched and trotted to the desk, jumping up. “We don’t do that.”
“Right,” Ari said. She felt a moment’s hope. “Isn’t there some special branch that does that. Some segment of the Marine Corps?”
“Yes,” Luther said. “The Anticipation Response Team.”
“ART?” Pix said.
“No. Anticipation Resp–”
“Got it.” Pix lay down next to Wei and snuggled in. Wei gave a low growl. Didn’t budge.
“Send them,” Ari said. “We’re not trained in time travel. What if we meet ourselves?”
“What indeed?” Luther said. “Get down to building six on the back complex. Blenheim will queue you up.”
Pix stayed where she was, pretending to be asleep.
“Tomorrow?” Ari said.
“Two hours.” Luther tapped up the time. “Nope. One hour, fifty nine.”
Chapter 5
Blenheim wore glasses keyed through his temples. No wonder people were going blind, Ari thought.
“Done this before?” he asked. He drew out his Os. Maybe from one of the moon colonies. He didn’t seem weak-boned. More heavyset.
The back room of building six smelled of old fish scales and motor oil. Either part of a clever disguise, or Luther had had the place repurposed from earlier days.
With those high-ceilings and crumbling cinderblock walls, Ari guessed it was the second.
Pix rode on her shoulder. “Monkeys,” she whispered.
“What?”
“Oh, just shapes in the paint flakes. They look like monkeys.”
Ari smiled. Pix was right. Paint had flaked in parts and some of the spots could have been pictures of monkeys.
“Are you listening?” Blenheim said. “This is important.”
“I’m listening,” Ari said.
“The flicker’s very simple” Blenheim stood in front of a white leather chair that might have come directly from a dentist’s surgery. Cables draped across the floor from circuit boxes on the wall.
“Simple,” Pix said. “But it needs a lot of juice, right?”
“Oh, man. Don’t let me tell you about our power bills. Anyway. You grab a seat, I turn on the field, you go back to yesterday. I guess Luther gave you a briefing and a plan for what to do?”
Ari turned up her palm. “All in here.” The data tingled.
“Good, good. Jump up. Your cat can sit on your lap.”
“She’s not really much of a lap-cat,” Ari said.
“And I’m a margay,” Pix said. “Which would be a whole lot more polite.”
Blenheim simply smiled.
Ari and Pix got onto the chair.
Chapter 6
The room looked the same, except that Blenheim had gone.
“Yesterday,” Pix said.
“Looks like.” Ari stood.
Pix jumped down and ran to the door. “I don’t feel great.”
Ari got it. She felt a low-level nausea through her gut.
Pix retched and hawked up something disgusting against the wall. “That’s better,” she said.
“Come on, Let’s go find Margaret.”
Chapter 7
Margaret dropped them right where the thick forest met the ancient ruined cornfields. A couple of chugging combines chewed through the weeds and cornstalks, eking something out. Monkeys called from the trees.
“I think Luther likes you,” Margaret said as she ran through checklists in the cockpit. Prepping for her return to Entebbe.
Pix stayed pressed up to the cockpit windows, still looking out.
“Have I come back like this before?” Ari said.
“Not for me to say.” Margaret pointed to the north. “Follow the treeline, you’ll come to the pinpoint. I had to put you out about a kilometer away. Regulations.”
“You don’t strike me as someone who gives much credence to regulations.”
“Sure. But when the safety of my ship’s at stake, you bet I do. Luther says I should be back here at sunset.”
“We’ll be here.” Pix pulled away from the window. She jumped to the cockpit floor.
“You like to fly, huh,” Margaret said. “You stared out the whole time. You should have been an eagle.”
“I like to fly,” Pix said. “And I like being a margay just fine, thank you.”
“Got it.”
Pix ran to the edge of the door.
“Sunset,” Ari said as Pix pressed against her leg.
Margaret leaned around. “Yes. But I’m going to start circling ninety minutes before. You need me to come in early and make your pick up, I’ll be here. You watch out, Africa’s different to your homeland.”
“I grew up here,” Ari said.
“Nice try. You lived here for three years from ages six to nine. After that you went home to Mongolia.”
Ari nodded. It occurred to her that if Margaret knew that, then Luther doubtless knew too.
Maybe even knew that Doctor Acala had come over numerous times to work with her parents.
“How do you know that?” Ari said.
“It’s on your file. I like to know who I’m dealing with if I have to wait around for a pick-up. Is someone going to be waiting patiently, or are they going to be late? Are they going to be fleeing angry rebels and need emergency evac? Helps.”
Ari smiled. “Reassuring.” She climbed from the cabin. “Thanks Margaret.”
“See you soon.”
Chapter 8
“I hear machinery,” Pix said as they closed on the combine. Ari could hear it too. Hammer drills and rivet guns and power saws. Maybe.
She didn’t remember that from their previous visit.
Water soaked the soil. This part of the forest had its own microclimate. Old volcanic soils that held the moisture. Strange to think that just a few hundred meters away lay agricultural savannah.
“Do you think,” Pix said, “That Blenheim sent us back a day too early? More?”
“No. I checked the date,” Ari said.
She saw some of the monkeys up in the trees. Small, brown things. Free The Primates had breached a smugglers compound. Hundreds of macaques and marmosets had fled into the forest.
“Are we early?” Pix said.
“No.” Ari checked the time on her palm. “In fact the other Ari and Pix should be here right about now.”
“I’m going to scout,” Pix said.
“Wait.”
But Pix bounded off. She sped up a tree.
“Pix!” Ari called. But the margay leapt through the branches. The monkeys screamed. Fled again.
Ari hurried after, cursing.
Chapter 9
The combine stood at the head a trail leading back through the smashed trees and shrubs. Wheel tracks where the combine had crashed through. Out of control. Lianas draped across the machine’s carcass.
Its blades jammed against an old thick-trunked iroko. Strong. A supertanker couldn’t have budged the tree. It would have brought the combine to an immediate halt.
Ari saw her other self up on the combine’s superstructure. She looked tired.
Ari figured out the time. Right now, the kidnappers would be attempting to extract further information from Acala.
Data they would try to sell on various markets. Stupid, really. Acala only wanted good. Aid and assistance. He wanted people to get along better.
Opening her palm, Ari flicked up an tiny acetate display. It brought in the latest data on the kidnapping.
Doctor Acala, based currently in Kisangani, missing three days, since Friday 16:20, ransom note pinged through an Earth Trojan satellite, current status unknown.
Current data only. From today. She already had information from tomorrow.
Ari knew his actual current status. Still alive. Alive and well.
Very soon, though, her other self would charge in and the kidnappers would panic.
Slice open Acala’s throat.
Flee as the other Ari tried to arrest the bleeding. Tears streaming.
She’d hadn’t been around when her father died, but Acala felt like an honorary father. An uncle.
Holding him as his life shuddered away tore holes in her.
And Laina Schmidt would arrive.
Start asking questions, looking for why this had gone wrong.
Kidnappers long gone. Acala dead. Ari waiting for Margaret to come pick her up. Waiting until very late in the afternoon.
The combine had some makeshift panels around the back. The kidnappers had welded in sheets to create more shelter. A temporary location, but defensible.
Ari saw one of them in a doorway. Squat, wearing an old leather jerkin, carrying a machine gun.
Pix appeared around the back of the combine. Walking close to the ground. Ears down.
Ari crouched. On top of the combine, the other Ari bent and looked. Just a couple of meters above the kidnapper’s head.
Ari remembered this moment.
Pix said something to the kidnapper. He stepped out, gun down. Pix darted back as Ari jumped onto the kidnapper’s shoulders. Rendered him unconscious.
That was when things started going bad.
The guy got off a shot. The other kidnappers piled out.
As Ari fought them, one of them returned inside. Killed Acala.
And as Ari fought to save him, the kidnappers fled.
Now, Pix moved around the back of the combine. Ears down. She looked up at the kidnapper.
The other Pix. Ari wondered where her Pix had gotten to.
The other Pix spotted Ari. Not her own Ari, but Ari here looking at her from the trees.
“Ari?” Pix said. “You’re supposed to be up there.” The margay ran out toward her.
The kidnapper swung his gun out. “Hey.”
Pix stopped. Remembering her task.
Too late.
The kidnapper shouted. He cocked the weapon.
Pix darted ahead. Running for the trees.
“Stay back,” Ari called.
The kidnapper fired.
Pix’s shoulder exploded. Blood sprayed. She tumbled. Rolled over. Propelled by the projectile.
Legs flopped. Mouth open.
Ari screamed.
The other Ari screamed.
She jumped from the top of the combine.
The kidnapper spun. Fired again.
The other Ari landed on top of him.
He kept firing.
He fell under her body. She lay upon him, bloodied and torn.
Ari fell back on her haunches. The kidnapper didn’t move.
The other Ari didn’t move.
More kidnappers came out. They bent to the mess. Helped the other kidnapper squirm out from under the body.
Her own body.
From yesterday.
Killed.
Dead.
Ari sat watching. Hidden in the shadows of the trees.
The kidnappers laughed. One of them kicked the other Ari’s body.
Very dead.
Another one came from inside. Carrying beers. They clinked the bottles. Drank.
Ari stared.
The kidnappers filtered back inside their makeshift fort.
Ari crept across the ground. She choked.
Pix.
Ari forced herself to go right up. Right to the margay.
Ari put her hand on Pix’s flank. Hoped to feel movement. Even shallow breathing. The flutter of a beating heart.
Nothing.
The bullet had ripped open her side. Torn off her shoulder blade. Exposed her ribs.
Pix lay with her mouth open. Tongue drooping. Fangs sharp and still. Ari’s tears fell on Pix’s fur.
Something nuzzled up against Ari. It took her a moment to realize it was Pix.
Her Pix. From tomorrow. Somehow still alive.
“That went badly,” Pix said.
From the combine, Ari heard shouting. She recognized Doctor Acala’s voice.
“How?” Ari said. “We…” But she knew. Pix had seen her. Been confused. Run out.
Out into the open.
It had changed things. Her presence. If they hadn’t come, this wouldn’t have happened.
“We need to go,” Pix said.
Ari picked up the body. Cradled the other Pix to her. Blood ran into her shirt.
“Ari,” Pix said.
“Yes,” Ari said. “I’ll call Margaret.”
Chapter 10
Luther stormed around the office. He threw a cup against the wall. The cup didn’t break, but it left a dent, and a trail of splashed coffee dripping down.
Under the rubber tree, Wei comforted Pix, licking the smaller cat’s fur.
Margaret stood against the back wall. She’d landed the hover on the building opposite.
“Acala’s alive,” Ari said. She felt numb. She’d watched Pix die.
“We don’t know that,” Luther said.
“We’ll go back again,” Ari said. She saw Pix prick up her ears. “If we go back before we… well we can stop it. We just didn’t get our timing right.”
Luther sighed. He sat at the desk, leaning forward. “I don’t think it’s that simple.”
“Let her try,” Margaret said.
Luther shook his head. “What if you get killed for keeps?”
“Isn’t that what happened? Won’t it just catch up with us?”
Again Luther shook his head. “Blenheim could explain it better than I could. But however it works, you didn’t get killed, since you’re right here.”
“I saw myself. Shot dead.”
“But do you remember it?”
“I saw.”
“I mean, do you remember feeling it? Do you remember falling on the guy and getting yourself shot?”
Ari shook her head.
Luther turned to Pix and Wei. Still grooming. “Pix,” Luther said. “You remember getting shot yourself?”
“I don’t,” Pix said. “I didn’t even see it.”
“If we go back before,” Ari said. “If–”
“It’s out of the question.” Luther turned to face her again. “I’m calling this operation a bust. Acala is lost. Sometimes it happens. I’m glad we didn’t lose you too.”
Ari didn’t say anything. She knew what was coming. Luther would take her out of the picture. Give her a desk job in Johannesburg or Oslo. Somewhere far away.
At best.
Maybe fire her for good.
“I want you to take a week,” Luther said. “Margaret. Fly her somewhere nice.”
“Sir,” Margaret said.
“But,” Ari said. “But shouldn’t I have a debriefing?”
“We have recordings,” Luther said. “I’m happy for you to talk us through it when you’re back.”
“I’m not fired?”
“We’ll talk about that when you get back.”
Ari could only nod.
“Now. Out of here, all of you. I’ve got work to do.”
Chapter 11
Standing on the rooftop beside Margaret’s hover, Ari could smell cooking sausage on the breeze. She wondered how long since she’d eaten.
Overhead, stars twinkled. A high-altitude jet blinked, silent and moving fast.
“Okay,” Margaret said. “Here’s what I’m supposed to do. Fly you to your apartment so you can get some fresh clothes. After that, on to Majorca, or the Canary Islands. I’m supposed to pick you up in a week.”
Ari began her reply, but Margaret held up her hand.
“I can tell, by the set of your jaw, that you’re not interested.”
“Not a bit.”
“I guess you want to go and see Blenheim. Get him to send you back again.”
“That’s right.”
Margaret shook her head. “I knew you were like this the first moment I laid eyes on you.”
“Like what?” Ari said.
“Like this,” Pix said.
“Come on,” Margaret said. “Get aboard, I’ll fly the pair of you right over to Blenheim’s lair.”
Chapter 12
Someone had trashed the lab.
The chair lay on its side. The cinderblock walls had scorch marks as if someone had used a flamethrower. The air smelled of kerosene.
Ari stood in the doorway, staring. She hadn’t completely formulated her plan yet, but Blenheim was a key.
“Gangs?” Margaret said. “They’re getting more brazen these days.”
“They are.” Ari leant back against the doorway. It didn’t matter about splitting timelines or paradoxes or whatever anomaly she’d created.
She’d died. And so had Pix.
They had to stop that.
Ari felt hollowed looking at the room now. Eviscerated.
Pix walked around the room, sniffing. Ears flat.
“I don’t suppose you know of any other time travel units?” Ari asked Margaret.
Margaret shook her head. “Maybe this time, honey, you’ve got to give up.”
Ari took a breath. Each time she closed her eyes now, she saw herself falling from the combine’s roof.
Pix already dead.
Acala about to be.
Pix stopped. Lifted her head. Looked around. “Jennifer,” she said. “We need to talk to Jennifer.”
“You’re right.” Ari turned to Margaret. “I guess if you could fly us to Oslo via Cairo, a few hops around Entebbe won’t make much difference.”
Margaret sighed. “I know this is going to get me into so much trouble.”
“I heard,” Pix said, “that was your middle name.”
Margaret smiled.
Chapter 13
“Here’s what you need to do,” Jennifer said, standing on the hotel’s balcony. The building creaked as if so insubstantial that it shifted in the light breeze. Jennifer leaned on the iron railing, staring across the lake. Some lit, white-sailed yachts plied in languorous circles. Night racing.
“What?” Pix said. “What do we need to do?”
“Wait,” Jennifer said. “I hadn’t quite figured the next part.”
“Time’s ticking,” Margaret said. “And someone’s going to ticket me for parking on the roof here.”
They’d found Jennifer at home here through her social commentaries. Easy enough. And the room was pretty nice. Jennifer must have had a whole bunch of things going on besides consulting for Luther.
Ari stood at the balcony door, watching the lake.
“If you know someone,” she said.
“Yeah,” Jennifer said. “But it might be conflict of interest.”
“Conflict? I’m trying to save my life. You know, the one in the timeline where I’m dead already, so you don’t even have to jump in and save me from that gang.”
Jennifer nodded. “We don’t know that. No one knows about time chan–”
“Exactly!” Ari said. “No one knows. So if I can go and fix it, there’s no harm done.”
“No harm done anyway. You’re alive. Be glad.”
“Harm’s done. I saw Pix killed.”
“Ah.” Jennifer turned. “You cat-people.”
Ari didn’t say anything.
Jennifer put her hands on the back of her neck, elbows out. She looked at the stars. “If we’re going to do this, I’m coming.”
“Me too,” Margaret said.
“Well,” Jennifer said, “that goes without saying. We need you to steal an aircraft. Yesterday.”
Chapter 14
Ari knew exactly where they were. Smugglers’ haunts. Greasy and grimy dark rooms. Animal cages, timber boxes, racks of tools.
Their guide, the man who’d admitted them through a slotted door, led them through narrow brick corridors. Fetid water lay on the pitted concrete floor.
From other parts of the buildings she heard the cries of animals. Pix climbed onto Ari’s shoulder.
They passed through a makeshift corridor into something that might have once been a school gymnasium.
In one dark corner stood a similar chair to Blenheim’s. Jennifer and Margaret both had slim equipment backpacks. Ari didn’t know if they’d brought weapons.
“How are we paying for this?” Ari whispered to Jennifer.
“I’m giving them a blind-eye pass on a boat landing tomorrow.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Do you want to go back, or not?”
Ari swallowed. “I don’t want it under circumstances like that. I have some money.” Savings, some left from her father’s estate.
“How is that any different? We’re dealing with people outside the law here. I’m uncomfortable with it. You’re more so, that’s clear. But you have to decide what’s more important.” Jennifer slowed, looking at the chair and back at Ari. “Kind of late to back-out now.”
Ari nodded. “We’ll go.” She hated dealing with these people. She was glad they’d only seen the one.
“If the smugglers have access to time travel, how can we ever put a stop to them? How can we ever put a stop to any of them?” Ari thought about Acala’s kidnappers, about the monkey smugglers back in the forest.
“By being smarter,” Jennifer said. “That’s all we have.”
“Is it enough?”
Jennifer shrugged. “We’ll send Margaret first,” she said. “She can go get the aircraft.”
“Fine with me,” Margaret said.
Chapter 15
Sunlight blazed through the building’s narrow, high windows. Ari sat up in the chair. Pix bounded from her lap.
Jennifer stood waiting.
“Wait,” Ari said. “You didn’t come through yet.”
Jennifer smiled her bright, broad smile. “Time travel, Ari. Margaret’s got a jet waiting.”
“How far back are we?”
“Forty hours. We’re going to head you off.”
Chapter 16
The jet bolted across the continent. The engines droned, deep and powerful.
Pix watched the ground speed away. Ari scratched her neck and ears.
“There’s you,” Pix said, staring down. “A big smiling Ari face in the trees.”
Ari looked. It took some imagination, but there really was a kind of face. She looked for something Pix-shaped.
Margaret made a vertical drop landing in a clearing close to the combine.
Chapter 17
Pix ran ahead. Monkeys chattered from the trees.
Ari heard the sound of Margaret’s hover sweeping in from the south.
Twice it had come. So now there were three Aris, three Pixes, two Margarets. And two Jennifers, one here and one back in Entebbe.
“What’s the plan?” Jennifer said as they strode along the forest trail. She swatted at an insect biting her neck.
“We come in from the north,” Ari said. “Get there before me.” Ari pictured one of those so-clever domino runs. One domino falling after the other, with spreading branches. She had no idea on which branch she lay. So many iterations.
Again she heard the hammering.
“I can see it,” Pix said. “You and me, we’re nearly there.”
“Already?”
“It looks that way.”
Ari heard another sound. Another engine. A jet pack.
Laina Schmidt.
Early.
“That’s not right,” Ari said. “I didn’t see her until later.”
“Her?” Jennifer said.
“She came… the journalist.”
“That’s Laina Schmidt?” Margaret said. “She filed a report on the killing?”
“She will file it. But she didn’t arrive until after the kidnappers had gone. She came in and photographed me with Acala’s body. When I was trying to save him.”
“What’s the timeline on that?” Jennifer said.
Ari slowed. She opened her palm and flicked up an acetate display. The data synced to current time.
“Close to an hour.”
“We should have more precision.”
“It happened so fast,” Ari said, feeling naive and inexperienced, “I didn’t note the exact time.”
“It’s okay,” Margaret said. “We’ll work with what we’ve got.”
“I’m going scouting,” Pix said.
“Wait,” Ari said. She made a grab for the scruff of Pix’s neck. “You need to wait. This is what got you killed last time.”
“No.”
“She’s right,” Jennifer said. “I saw the data. Your presence on the turnaround interrupted that Pix’s concentration.”
“You two shouldn’t have come,” Margaret said. “Adds too many variables.”
Ari thought of the dominoes again. “We had to come.”
“Yeah, you did,” Jennifer said. “But Margaret’s right. Too many variables.”
“Pix,” Ari said. “You stay with me.” Pix could smell and hear and sense movement far better than Ari. “We’ll go into the combine from ground level. Ahead of ourselves.”
“And if the other Pix sees you?” Jennifer said.
“One of the other Pixes,” Margaret said.
“Or both.”
Ari took a breath. “I’m going to save Doctor Acala’s life right now.”
Margaret put her hand on Ari’s shoulder. “What do you need from us?”
“Cover,” Ari said.
Jennifer frowned. “As in ‘covering fire’?”
“Exactly.”
Grim-faced, Jennifer reached over he shoulder and pulled a folding rifle from the backpack. The rifle flipped into shape.
“You knew we had these?” Margaret said as she brought out her own rifle.
“Of course. I saw the bags.”
“You need one,” Jennifer said.
Ari took the slimshot from her waist.
“Little-biddy gun like that?” Margaret said.
“I work best by negotiation.” Ari started off through the forest. “Come on Pix.”
“Negotiation,” Pix said as she bounded along, “hasn’t gone well so far.”
Ari said nothing.
Chapter 18
Ari ran up to the iroko that held the combine fast. She crept around, feet squelching in the damp earth. The combine’s rusting hide looked as if it would soon return to the forest soil. Even with the best intentions of the kidnappers.
Pix pressed into her leg. “I can climb,” Pix said. “Get a better view.” Stretching, she tried sharpening her claws on the trunk. “Ow. Hard.”
Pieces of the combine’s blades had broken off against the tree. Despite its size, the combine was not an irresistible force.
“Stay with me,” Ari said.
She crept around the iroko’s roots and along the combine’s wide scoop. At the side, she crouched. Looked along.
A jetpack stood near the makeshift door under the combine’s main body. Laina Schmidt.
“She came first,” Pix said. “She set herself up with a story.”
Ari nodded. “That’s how it looks all right.”
From the right she heard movement through the trees. More of the band.
One of them shouted. Ari heard running.
“We’ve been spotted,” Pix said.
Two of them came out of the doorway. Guns at the ready.
Gunfire from the trees. Margaret and Jennifer. Covering fire.
A third one stepped out. Carrying just a knife.
Acala’s killer.
“We have to go now,” Pix said.
“Yes.” Ari lifted the slimshot. “Stay close. Don’t get shot.”
She aimed.
Fired.
Missed.
The kidnapper with the knife darted through the doorway.
“Go,” Pix said. Didn’t wait herself.
Ari suppressed a curse. She sprinted after the margay.
The guns came around.
Again Ari remembered the flash. The other Pix. Shot. Dead.
Ari fired again.
Another miss.
But both gunmen flinched. Backed around. Fired wild.
Bullets cracked around her. Ricochets whined from the combine’s superstructure.
One shot left.
Pix leapt up the combine’s side. Finding enough grab points somehow. She hissed. Moved like a whip.
Distracted the gunmen.
One of them.
The other one stopped firing. Took a bead on Ari.
The first one kept firing at Pix.
Ari jinked left. Rolled. Hit roots. Something sharp dug into her back.
She came up into a crouch. Slimshot in hand.
Pix hit the ground. Rolled too.
Lay still.
Ari aimed. Square at the guy’s chest.
Fired.
The sound slammed her ears.
Blood burst from his chest.
The gunman collapsed.
On her feet. Ari ran again. Sprinted. Dead at the other guy.
Grabbed him in a tackle. The rifle barrel smacked her ear.
He kicked. Stumbled.
Fell back against the combine. Ari elbowed his jaw.
Nasty cracking sound.
She kept moving. Stomped his knee.
Dove for the doorway. Glimpsed Pix. Bleeding.
Breathing.
Ari gasped. Kept moving.
Inside, a single light hung from the gutted combine’s framework.
Doctor Acala sat in an old aluminum deck chair. Bound. Head slumped.
The guy with the knife stood in front of him. Shouting. Incoherent.
From outside came more gunfire.
Ari realized someone else stood in the makeshift room. Laina Schmidt. A tiny pinpoint of light from her palm. Recording this.
Recording Acala’s murder.
The guy with the knife spun to face Ari. Doctor Acala groaned.
“Pappy?” Ari said.
“Little Ari.” Nothing more than a hoarse whisper.
Ari heard nothing from outside. No gunfire. No monkeys. Not a breath of wind.
She stepped forward.
The man with the knife stabbed at her.
She deflected. The blade sliced her forearm.
She screamed.
Something blurred by her. Pix.
Leaping at the guy. Claws out. Fangs wide.
She grabbed his face. Protecting Ari. Pix’s first instinct.
The guy swiped at her. Doctor Acala stumbled up. Crashed forward into the struggling pair.
With her good arm, Ari grabbed for the knife.
Together they tumbled to the makeshift floor. Ari got her hand on the guy’s throat. She squeezed. Pressed down. Kept pressing.
The blade swung again.
Ari moved. Took the impact. Right through her shoulder.
Ari fell back.
The blade stung like a thousand pokers. Hurt worse going out.
“No,” Acala said. “No, Little Ari.” With a spurt of strength he stretched. The aluminum chair twisted.
He slammed onto the guy. Rolled across his face. Gasped.
Ari lay gasping herself. She stared at the ceiling. She saw where they’d strung up tiny lanterns. Dark, switched off. Holes in the metal too. She wasn’t sure if they were from rust or bullets.
Someone moved to her. Bending. Pressing at the wound. Margaret.
Someone else shouted. An argument. Laina. Laina and Jennifer.
Ari felt hazy. Faint.
“Ari?” Margaret said.
“It’s bad, huh?”
“You’re going to be all right.”
“They always say that,” she said. “Even when it isn’t true.”
“It’s true.”
“Doctor Acala, though?”
“He’s here.”
“Help him first.”
Margaret didn’t reply. Ari forced herself up. She looked over.
There he lay. Breathing shallow. Eyes glassy.
“You should have escaped,” she said.
“No.” Barely audible. “I couldn’t leave you. Not you and Pix.”
“Pappy.”
He smiled. “I’m glad you came,” he said. “I’m sorry you got hurt.”
Ari blinked. Everywhere ached.
“We’ll get him back,” Margaret back. “Get you both back.”
“Pix?” Ari said.
“I’m sorry,” Margaret said. “She…”
Ari swallowed. Blinked again.
Her throat constricted.
Ari turned away.
Chapter 19
Outside she saw the other Ari. Two other Aris. One in the forest.
One on the combine’s roof.
Two living Pixes.
Ari swallowed. She went to Laina Schmidt’s jetpack and strapped it on. The machine whined, reading her weight and adjusting its settings.
“Can you fly that?” Margaret said from the doorway. She’d unfolded a portable stretcher. Ready to carry Doctor Acala away.
He was going to be all right. Asleep now, from sedatives Jennifer had administered.
All the kidnappers were dead.
Another Margaret would be coming to pick up the other Ari. And then the other, other Ari.
Ari’s head spun trying to keep it straight.
Or maybe it was seeing Pix’s body lying next to the knifeman that made her spin.
No second chances from that.
But Pix had saved Doctor Acala. Her Pappy.
That was clear. The jetpack’s engines began winding up.
“Ari?” Margaret said over the engine noise. “I don’t think you should be flying that.”
“I’m okay.” She knew what would happen with the others. Time would all fold in on itself. She would catch up with herself again. There would be only one Ari.
And no Pix.
“Ari,” Jennifer said, coming out into the cool air. She had Laina Schmidt with her hands cuffed at her waist.
Laina frowned.
“I’m taking your jetpack,” Ari said. “You won’t be needing it.”
Laina didn’t reply.
“You should fly back with us,” Jennifer said.
Ari shook her head. “I’ll see you in Entebbe.”
She needed to be free. To be alone.
With some quick flicks at the controls, the jetpack lifted from the damp ground.
Ari accelerated away, gaining altitude. She let her tears come, but she knew Pix wouldn’t want her to stay sad.
Soon, Ari found herself flying over the icy mountains again.
Below she thought she saw a shape in the rocks. A shape like a leaping cat.
A margay.
Just like Pix.
Ari smiled.
Pix would have liked that.
I hope you enjoyed “Cat Leaps”. Feel free to comment. Nicely, of course.
As I mentioned at the top, if you wanted your own copy to keep, you can grab it from the website here, or follow the Universal Book Link to get it from your favorite store in ebook ($2.99)or print ($12.99).
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This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and incidents described in this publication are used fictitiously, or are entirely fictional.
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Sean Monaghan - Writer 