Catseye by Andre Norton Read Free Book Online Page B

scar seam before his ear.
    â€œThat’s a valuable specimen,” he remarked mildly when Troy had done. “You were right to bring it back here. Curious as a ffolth sand borer. There was no reason for the law to upset it to the point of hysteria! Put it in the empty end cage in the animal room, give it some water and a few quagger nuts, and leave it alone.”
    Troy followed orders, but once at the cage he had some difficulty in detaching the kinkajou. The animal appeared to accept Horan as a refuge in the midst of a chancy world, and he had to pry paws and tail loose from their hold on him. As he closed the cage door, the captive rolled itself into a tight ball in the corner farthest from the light, presenting only a stubborn hump of furred back to the world.
    During the few days he had been at Kyger’s, Troy had come to look forward to the early hours of the night when he was left alone in the interior of the main buildings. He made two watch rounds according to his orders. But each night before he napped, he had his own visiting pattern. The fussel hawk, the blue-feathered cubs that always greeted him with reaching paws and joyous squeaks, and several other favorites were then his alone. Tonight he came also to the kinkajou cage. From the appearance of that furred ball still wedged into the far corner, the creature had not moved from the position it had assumed when he first put it there.
    Deliberately Troy tried mental contact, suggesting friendship, a desire for better understanding. But if the kinkajou received those suggestions, it neither acknowledged nor reacted to them. Disappointed, Troy left the room after setting the com broadcaster.
    When he stretched out on his bunk, he tried to fit one event of the day to another. But when he remembered Rerne and the other’s request for his services in testing the fussel in the Wild, Troy drifted into a daydream, which, in a very short interval, became a real dream.
    Troy rolled over, his shoulder bringing up against the wall with a smart rap, his head turning fretfully. There was a thickness behind his eyes, which was not quite a pressure of pain, only a dull throb. He opened his eyes. The dial of the time-keeper faced him, and the hour marked there was well past the middle of the night—though not quite time for his round. But as long as he was now thoroughly awake, he might as well make it.
    He sat up, pulled on his half boots. Then he pressed his fingertips gently to his temples. The dull feeling in his head persisted, and it was not normal. In fact—
    Troy’s hand flashed to the niche above the head of his bunk, scooping up the weapon that lay waiting there.
    Though he had never experienced that particular form of attack before, his wits were now alert enough to supply him with one possible explanation. With the stunner in his hand, he walked as noiselessly as he could to the doorway, peered out into the subdued lighting of the corridor.
    To his right was Kyger’s office, thumb-sealed as usual. And there had been no betraying sound from the com. No betraying sound! But a lack of normal sounds can be as enlightening! Troy had become accustomed to the small twitters, clicks, chattering subcomplaints of the night hours—a myriad of sounds that issued normally from the cage rooms.
    The dull pressure in his own head, together with the absence of those same twitters, clicks, chatters, spelled only one thing. There was a “sleeper” in operation somewhere on the premises—the illegal gadget that could lull into unconsciousness living things not shielded from its effect on the middle ear. And a sleeper was not the tool of a man who had any legitimate business here. It must be turned low enough to handle the animals but not to stun Horan himself into unconsciousness—why?
    Troy tested Kyger’s sealed office doorway with one hand, the stunner ready in the other. The panel refused to move, so at least that lock had not been