Feline Predators Of Ganz - Zorroc Part 1

ZORROC.

Feline Predators of Ganz.

By Lil Gibson.

For information, you can find us on the web at www.VenusPress.com.

Acknowledgements.

First to my editor, Deborah Lynne, an outstanding novelist in her own right, who made the editing process both educational and so much fun.

Second is to my wonderful husband, who was forced to read Zorroc from the first version to the four-thousandth. You are my hero, honey.

Third to Lynn Pittenger, who tirelessly helps me with the rules of writing. (Notice I spelled your name right this time).

Dedication.

This book is dedicated to my mother, Connie Shaffer, who forever accused me of having a vivid imagination.

I guess she was right...again.

The Dream.

Quiet. So quiet. Too quiet.

He raised his eyelids a fraction to confirm the coming dawn. Nadia's pet tornika should have been clicking happily outside his chambers, the birds greeting each other, and the coming dawn in their individual dialects, and the Apis digging noisily through the brush outside his window for fresh Scarubs. He rose slowly from his mat and moved to the window, then pressed the pad to release the translucent covering. The dawn broke, surreally muted, as if a layer of gauze had encased the House of Ra. It was not the mist that rose from the lagoons with majestic eeriness, which hung no more than a few calabrays from the surface. This mist was falling from the sky. But, that was impossible; Gattonia had been free of pollutants for centuries...

He started at the sound of pounding feet barreling toward his panel. Was he dreaming? Then his protector and a team of militia poured through the sliding panel and entered his chambers. They simply stared at one another for a few moments before everyone began speaking at once.

The Dargons had COM'd that they had left a calling card in the wind. The Gattonians were all but finished as a race and must evacuate or face more of the same.

As leader of his people, he had heard of the environmental expungers but they existed two galaxies away. How had they come to be near their planet of Ganz?

His visions revealed a kaleidoscope of horror that no one could have antic.i.p.ated or prepared for. The Dargons had laid in a virus which targeted their females. Many writhed in agony, spewing their insides, ejecting their female organs where they lay. Many died and many more were hopelessly deformed in both body and spirit. Almost all were rendered infertile.

Their finest Med-techs could not find a way to treat the afflicted, merely alleviate their pain and watch them suffer an agony so horrid that suicide was becoming a problem among the males.

He could only watch as the female population of Gattonia withered...while he and the other males suffered no side effects. What kind of evil could conceive something so diabolical? A helpless tidal wave of rage, hate...and fear swelled within him until he choked with it. He was their leader and their guardian. He was responsible for their safety. He had failed them and failed himself.

Now the monsters were coming again. He could feel it. Silently, lethally and this time...

"Nooo!" he screamed as he tumbled off his mat covered in sweat and disoriented.

He sucked in a deep calming breath and rose. It was the nightmare again, replaying images that he lived with day and night. The horror, rage, and fear that would not recede but resided inside him like a malignant growth. He sank back onto his mat and raked his hands through his mane. Zazu, who was he kidding. He was not having a nightmare; his life was a nightmare.

Chapter One.

Earth 2027.

Zorroc of the House of Ra, Province of Gattonia, had not planned to take her this soon, but time had run out. He had spent the last day and a half studying her and conferring with those a.s.signed to watch her, planning how to spring his trap. He did not want to make it harder on her than need be or frighten her unduly, but capturing her attention completely and laying his first snare in this game she could not win had been tricky. The right tone had to be set. If he simply trans.h.i.+fted her to his s.h.i.+p, she could become disoriented and be of no use to them when they required her cooperation. To steal her in her sleep could end in a similar result.

He had no use for hysterical, unstable females. Therefore, he would appeal to her romantic nature, a prominent force in her make-up, so he had been informed; then take her. She was a scattered little thing who thought she believed in destiny and all manner of metaphysical phenomenon. Well, destiny was about to make an appearance and destroy the course of her world forever. He smiled grimly. He enjoyed his role as predator far more than his role as leader, but his own destiny had interfered with his enjoyment all too often of late.

He came from an ancient race of predators and the compulsion to hunt, capture, and tease ran strong in their lines. Though, as civilized beings, they did not often give in to that part of their nature; in this case he looked forward to acting the exception. Females of other races reacted with barely constrained s.e.xual fervor to what they perceived as a dangerous edge to their species. They enjoyed being dominated and controlled. Surely, this female would prove no different.

On several occasions, he materialized at the foot of her bed in deep night to observe her sleeping peacefully, her covers barely registering a ripple to expose her slight form. Other times, he watched her from a distance interacting with friends and co-workers. He did not understand the streak of molten antic.i.p.ation that grew within him with each sighting of her. Or why her unremarkable presence, when compared to her friends, filled him with unaccustomed warmth.

He and his protector had seated themselves at a table nestled in the shadows of Grumpy's, a bar and eating establishment attached to the shopping mall. Apparently, a favorite meeting place for Catarina and her two friends. She had arrived scant moments later, packages in hand from shopping as she settled on a bar stool, legs crossed and swinging in time to an internal melody only she could hear, then commenced conversing and laughing with the bartender.

"Is she never still?" Prolinc asked grumpily. "We have watched her for more than a quarter hour and she has not stopped squirming for an instant. If it is not her leg then her hands flit in tandem with her mouth, as well as her other three thousand movable parts. Are you sure she possesses even a drop of our blood? It does not seem possible," he concluded, slouched in his chair.

Zorroc turned his head slightly in contemplation, all the while fighting a grin. It represented a primary Gattonian trait, their stillness of form and spirit. "Yes, I am sure of her bloodline, though she is rather...animated. After studying her these last days, I am becoming accustomed to it." He shrugged. "Even her hair flows around her in perpetual motion much like the clouds over Gattonia," he softly murmured.

His gaze returned to Cat. She was small for an earth female and slight of build. Her dark, undisciplined auburn hair curled around her delicate features and halfway down her back. Her large, almond shaped eyes, a stunning a.s.set, shone like emeralds, revealing the essence of her being.

Zorroc suddenly stilled, riveting his attention on the bartender whose eyes appeared glued to Cat's unbound b.r.e.a.s.t.s as they gently swayed, nipples hardening slightly from the constant brush of her midnight blue sweater. "The bartender behaves over-solicitous toward Catarina, does he not?" Zorroc growled, wanting to take her that very second, to h.e.l.l with planning and finesse.

"Over-solicitous of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, perhaps," his friend replied merrily. A hiss escaped Prolinc as his gaze lit on and followed a blonde female proceeding across the room heading toward the bar. Sleek wheat colored hair piled atop her head accentuated the graceful curve of her neck. His gaze traced over large lush b.r.e.a.s.t.s to a tiny waist and grazed over legs that went on forever, exposed by a tight fitting short skirt. She approached Cat and the two greeted one another like long lost friends. "Who is she?" Prolinc demanded.

"She is one of Catarina's companions. Dee is her name; she is a law-upholder, I am told. And if you can take your eyes from her for a moment you will see Angel winding her way toward them."

Prolinc studied the three unabashedly, missing nothing. Physically, the females shared none of the same attributes. Oh, all were attractive, but in diverse ways. Angel, tall, willowy, and black as night had an exotic beauty rarely seen in an earth woman. Dee was as light as Angel was dark and as lush as Angel was slight. Catarina, dwarfed by the other two, brimmed with motion and mischief setting her apart from her friends' more sedate demeanors. And while her curly hair billowed around her, putting him in mind of a wood nymph, the other two had smooth long silken hair, Angel's worn loose and Dee's braided and intricately coiled, exposing the creamy expanse of her neck.

Cat suddenly straightened in her chair and scanned the room.

"Does she sense us?" asked Prolinc, breaking the silence.

"No," Zorroc disparaged. "She is an untrained earth-bounder and not aware of her innate capabilities, if in fact, she possesses them," grunting his last words with disgust at her lack of training and poor handling by her parents. "All her thoughts remain centered on her friends."

"You read her with ease, and though I am the stronger telepath, I cannot."

"It is a puzzle," Zorroc admitted softly to his life-bonded friend.

Actually, the three of them were a puzzle, Zorroc acknowledged as he watched them interact. They embodied the phrase "polar opposites" and he wondered what they found to talk about; but whenever he observed them, the three spilled words on each other more drenching than the monsoons of Kadeer. His sources had researched Cat's background for over a year and gathered a very comprehensive portfolio of her past. She had been enrolled at the local ed-center at six years of age and met Angel and Dee almost immediately. The three boarded together year-round until graduation and forged a bond stronger than family. Though Cat's parents still lived, their work with Earth's s.p.a.ce program took precedence over their only child. When Zorroc learned that her parents had visited her a mere handful of times since childhood, he found himself outraged on her behalf.

She now lived with two aunts who had shown up on her doorstep close to a year ago. They were purported to be her mother's older sisters and quite a surprise for Cat, because growing up she had not been aware of their existence. Now they took care of her, or she of them, depending on the circ.u.mstance.

Cat began filling her friends in on her latest booking, a Sci-fi convention set to commence in a little more than a week.

"So I decided to change it to the downtown convention center. With William Shatner and over fifteen-hundred attendees expected, I didn't think Lindsey Hall would be large enough," Cat continued, while taking a sip of her drink. "So that will be two weekends in a row for other-worldly pursuits with the Tarot a.s.sembly scheduled for this weekend. Do you think you can attend both?" she asked in a rush, eyes flas.h.i.+ng back and forth between her friends.

Dee and Angel slid a knowing glance at each other in silent communication. "We'll show for both weekends if you spill about your date with dreamy Dennis last Sat.u.r.day night. Dating is quite the monumental leap for you and we demand the juiciest details," Angel a.s.serted in her soft southern accent.

"Uh, it didn't go all that well actually," Cat confessed, while studying the intricate designs the salt made close to the rim of her gla.s.s. "What is it with guys these days? They take you out for dinner and a movie and think it ent.i.tles them to get lucky by the end of the evening! Well, he didn't get lucky and I doubt dippy Dennis will be back for more." She shrugged. "He was a centipede. I guess you have to kiss a lot of centipedes before one turns into a man, huh?"

"You kissed him?" the surprised duo gasped.

"Ick, barf! No, I didn't kiss him, who'd want to kiss an octopus with the body of a centipede; he kissed me and let me tell you there couldn't exist a slimier set of non-lips on the planet. He started out as an average type guy, but as the night and the margaritas wore on, I began to see his true form take shape. He began to drool, his eyes drooped, sweat broke out on his face and hands, and that's when he started inching toward me. Before I could escape, he had me pinned and p.r.o.ne on the cus.h.i.+oned bench and splat-" she emphasized by slapping her open hand flat against the bar top making both Dee and Angel jump. "His drooling fish lips. .h.i.t mine."

"What did you do?" they asked in breathy visual contemplation.

"The only thing appropriate; I kneed his shortest and hardest appendage. He seized up into a ball and rolled away like the slug he was," Cat said with a satisfied feline smirk, taking another sip of her Margarita. What she wouldn't give for a bona-fide Prince Charming that wouldn't pull a shape change on her at the slightest provocation.

"How's the Habi-Cat going?" Dee asked Cat, deciding on a change of subject.

"As a matter of fact, we are celebrating tonight. In closing both the Sci-fi and Tarot conferences in one month, a sizeable bonus will be added to my next paycheck. It will keep the cats in food and medicine for several months!" she concluded, finis.h.i.+ng off her margarita and ordering a 'Death by Chocolate' dessert for the three of them to share.

With the help of her aunts, Cat had opened the Habi-Cat eight months earlier, depleting her savings plus a hefty donation from the aunts to set up the safe haven for every breed of feline. The need for this facility could be summed up in one word. Euwitti.

The year 2022 had brought with it the self-proclaimed religious prophet Dr. Cecil Euwitti (better known to his enemies as Dim-Witty) whose mission espoused the elimination of world hunger and disease. Of course, his aspirations went deeper than that. His closest minions knew his final goal included world domination-power and wealth beyond imagination. And the first step toward his goal was chilling in its simplicity.

The utilization or annihilation of household pets! Animals that served no purpose save companions.h.i.+p, yet consumed an alarming amount of sustenance, depriving humanity of their one possible contribution-the sacrifice of their bodies for the betterment of science, and the nutriment and longevity of the human race.

In the beginning, the public had laughingly scoffed at the ridiculous notion of using their pets in such a sinister manner, but three years later, no one was laughing. Somehow, Dr. Euwitti had persuaded the government to outlaw most pets plus the mandatory confiscation of existing pets. These included hamsters, guinea pigs, rabbits, birds, ferrets, monkeys, rodents, amphibians, and reptiles of all kinds. Selected breeds of dogs and cats remained exempt. Dogs, for their contribution to society as helpmates and work animals, and cats, for the present, because there arose such a swell of outrage against it. Stray, wild, or unclaimed cats, however, stood fair game and thus the reason behind and creation of Habi-Cat.

"What's the cat count for the week?" asked Angel. She had conflicting feelings about the changes set in place by Dr. Euwitti. While confiscating existing pets from their homes made her distinctly uncomfortable, the scientist in her acknowledged the need for animals in laboratory testing. Many people 's lives had been saved because of them, to say nothing of the improved quality of life. However, the doctor's idea of processing one-half of household pets for food to feed the ma.s.ses caused a knee jerk reaction of abhorrence. Who in his right mind would want to eat his own or someone else's pet? She s.h.i.+vered at the image and tuned into the tail end of Cat's latest tally. One of her workers had rescued a litter of kittens from a citizen trying to capture them for the fee he would collect from the humane shelter. Shelters remained clearinghouses for animals, only now sold their charges to meat processing plants and research labs. In trading their non-profit status gladly, the shelters rolled in money, rapidly growing to become a top member of the New York Stock Exchange. The selling of pets had become highly lucrative.

"It's fortunate one of your a.s.sistants happened along when he did," Angel commented. "You know I support your efforts where pets are concerned, but you have to admit that animal testing and additional food are essential for the quality and prolonging of human life."

Cat released a long-suffering sigh. "And what exactly makes human life more important than other life forms?" she asked. "Remember that Star Trek movie where beings from another planet thought whales the supreme life form on earth, and after believing humans had exterminated them, proceeded to try and eradicate our species like some sort of parasite?"

Dee and Angel looked at one another with underlying commiseration before Dee spoke up as the voice of reason. "I think you should get therapy for your addiction to fantasy and sci-fi movies. One day you're going to fall into one and not be able to get out. And you have to admit that in real life, humans are the superior and most intelligent life form on earth."

Dee, who dealt in solid facts and logic to locate and transport bail jumpers and Angel, who as a scientist, believed in nothing that couldn't be proven by two or more methods, often found themselves at a loss as how to react to Cat's occasional jumps into never-never-land. Cat knew her two friends sometimes found her two Twinkies short of a box, but she held firm to her ideas, convinced they were every bit as logical as her friends were.

Cat snorted, "Oh, please. The arrogance of humans never ceases to amaze me." Especially when she found it in her own friends. "What makes you think we are the most intelligent species on earth?"

"It's a scientific fact proven conclusively by every renowned scientist and academic on the planet," Angel concluded.

"A scientific fact proven by 'human' scientists and academicians who made up the criteria of what intelligence is then proclaimed their own species the most intelligent. Prejudicial data built to support flawed theories. Maybe if our intelligence enabled us to communicate with other species, we would find that they viewed things in a wholly different light. We know that ants communicate telepathically, therefore, probably impart knowledge a whole lot more effectively than humans; aren't those attributes the mark of superior intelligence? Maybe cats are really the most intelligent species on the planet and should be wors.h.i.+ped by humans as the ancient Egyptians did instead of systematically slaughtered for food." Cat always felt particularly philosophical when sipping margaritas.

Angel and Dee studied Cat with twin expressions of bemus.e.m.e.nt, confusion, and frustration before Angel summarized. "Cat, sometimes I think you're from another planet."

Chapter Two.

"Sometimes that girl worries me," Dee mused, her gaze following Cat's retreating form as she made her way to the exit. "She insists on cat-sitting every evening until early morning even though she has competent staff to handle any difficulties. Her energy and dedication boggled my mind. Maybe all that sleep deprivation is catching up with her and affecting her judgment," she proposed, meeting Angel's amused glance.

The two burst into fits of giggles, delivering twin declarations of, "Nahhh." Shaking their heads. "She's just different than we are," Angel said, pausing to gather her thoughts, "fanciful and almost fey with one part of her rooted to reality while another, I don't know, exists in a realm we can't reach. And yeah, sometimes that concerns me a little."

"When she watches one of her Sci-fi cla.s.sics, she gets so engrossed I think she half believes it. And if I have to listen to another lecture on the pyramids..." Dee added.

"The Egyptian civilization was not advanced enough in engineering to design or construct such masterpieces of architecture, which supports the theory of 'beings' from another planet," Angel finished, starting the two giggling all over again. "I guess it's that combination of imagination, naivete, and intelligence that makes her so precious."

"You're probably right and we two pragmatists will always be here to protect those qualities."

Heading to her car, positively buzzing from a sugar high, with packages and purse making her progress awkward, Cat contemplated the unsolvable equation of what makes a friends.h.i.+p solidify into a bond stronger than family.

Considering this latest puzzle, she began chewing on her lower lip; a habit she employed to help her ruminate on inconsistencies, whether involving people or situations. Caught up in her thinking, she didn't register what had materialized directly in front of her and when she did, still could not believe it. She froze. He stood clearly illuminated by the powerful parking lot lights but she refused to grasp what her sugar-soaked brain communicated. Obviously hallucinating, she stared grappling for an answer. What other explanation could there be? Okay, it could be a costume, some hair dye and weird cat contact lenses-or this could be Candid Camera; she scanned the area for potential tricksters-or it could be...a pooka?

Oh, this was too much. A pooka in the form of a cat. That entire drivel about cats being the most intelligent species mixed with Margaritas and chocolate must have pickled her brain.

Think, think...he was the right size, around six four, the right shape, obviously human but...different. His skin gleamed a deep golden bronze, which beneath the powerful lights looked as smooth and s.h.i.+ny as polished marble. He had cat-like-eyes that settled on her in a very direct feline manner and had yet to blink. Add to that his Sean Connery eyebrows, and it equaled an absolutely, drop-dead gorgeous cat man.

So, what should she do? Walk up and say h.e.l.lo? Ignore him? Run like h.e.l.l and hope that he disappeared when the Margaritas wore off? He stood utterly still and silent and more to the point, he blocked her car as if he had the right. Time to brazen it out; a hallucination couldn't hurt anyone, could it?

She approached slowly and cautiously, blinking rapidly in an effort to clear him from her vision. He exemplified male perfection beyond anything her overly vivid imagination could conjure. She studied him slowly from his head down to his toes, pausing briefly at the bulge between his legs and felt telltale color flood her cheeks. Boy, what an imagination she had! His hair, mostly sable in color, possessed two defining streaks of gold on either side of his temples; his cat-eyes matched the golden streaks. His muscular shoulders and body looked sleek and hard, exuding a leashed power that should have been intimidating, but instead acted as a lure. He wore tight black jeans with a short sleeved, V-necked black T-s.h.i.+rt. Moreover, he emanated a hypnotic magnetism that proved impossible to resist.

"h.e.l.lo," she croaked, then cleared her throat to try again. "My name is Catarina Achilles, are you, uh, real? Silly me, of course you're not real, ha." She forged on, determined to make an even bigger fool of herself. "Are you lost or possibly an escapee from a costume party?"

She inched a little closer and whispered, "Are you an alien cat species worried about your relatives here on earth and decided to pop in for a little look-see? I promise I'm doing the best I can."

She faltered at his continued silence then put her hands on her hips, frustrated with both herself and him. "Look, I know this is some sort of pooka mirage gone awry, but I'm going to touch you just to make sure, okay? If you have a problem with this and prefer I keep my hands to myself, now would be the time to speak, got it? Or better yet-disappear." She waited for something to happen. A poof of smoke, a waning mirage, did she detect an amused glint in his amber depths?

He'd not moved a hair though she now stood close enough to breathe in his clean musky scent. His eyes, however, pulsed, vibrantly alive as they speared her very soul... Otherwise, she could have made a good case for an unknown party dropping a statue in the middle of the parking lot, blocking her car. Gingerly, she put out her hand, gently brus.h.i.+ng the center of his chest, and then snapped it back as if she'd been burned. He felt every bit as smooth and hard as he looked but warm to her touch-hot, in fact. She had not counted on the heat. Yep, he was real all right, and if she told anyone about this, they would commit her and throw away the key chip. Cat believed a certain truth surrounded every folklore and legend. She'd spent hours, in fact, researching everything she could get her hands on concerning the subject, but still...could this really be a mythical spirit come to life?

"Why is she not running? She appears nervous, but unafraid. Is she mind-blasted?"

Prolinc mindspoke to Zorroc.