FELINE RED
By ROBERT SAMPSON
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories January1954. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.copyright on this publication was renewed.]
A shouting wave of men rioted through the engine room.
From the bridge above the hulking atomics, Chief Engineer Durval volliedorders in a thunderous voice. "You men—you!" he raged. "Use your heads,not your feet. Drive them toward the door."
A scattering of Them—compact darting beasts the color of apoppy—scuttled into the shadow of an engine. Heavy Davison wrenchesclubbed futilely behind them.
As Durval flew into new bursts of shouting, Scott Jerill, First Mate ofthe freighter Bertha, grimly shook his head. His lean face was notsmiling now. "Call your men back," he commanded crisply. "We don't havetime to drive those cats out like this."
Durval turned on him with a snarl. "Take over then. Think of a betterway. If you hadn't hauled that load of space cats aboard in the firstplace...."
"Look out," Scott snapped.
With a crisp smack, a red creature the size of a man's hand struck therail before them. It was all improbable angles, with no special shape,no front or back. It teetered crazily over the ten foot drop to thefloor below. Then it settled, sputtering. It sounded curiously like anangry cat.
"There's one," roared Durval. His wrench slashed down, crashed shrillyon the rail as the cat skimmed effortlessly away. The wrench shot offtoward the floor.
Durval shook his hand and roared. The cat, some twenty feet down therail, cackled insanely. As Scott stepped slowly toward it, the cathissed, bounded off the rail, and down the steps to the engine roomfloor.
Scott shook his head. "You're not going to catch them by hand. Betterlet them settle down, Durval."
"Settle down." The Chief brought the palm of his hand down on the rail.The rail trembled. "They've already settled down. On every generator inthe place. One of them crawled under the main relay switch and shortedout half the board. Didn't hurt him a bit."
Scott interrupted gruffly. "We've got to get them out of here fast.Captain Elderburg wants to blast off here day after tomorrow, and wedon't have half the ore cargo purified yet."
"And you won't have," Durval snapped. "If we blast off, we'll do it withan empty hold. I can't purify uranium with fifty cats running loose,getting caught in the machinery. It can't be done. Get these cats outand I'll give you a hold full of the best grade uranium Earth everbought. But not till you get those cats out."
Scowling, Scott bit his knuckles. "We've got to get moving. The skipperthinks IP Metals is going to jump our claim," he said urgently.
"If you ask me, only a doddering fool would bring these things into aspace ship." He glanced sharply at Scott. "What's this about IPM?"
Scott shook his head slowly. "Nothing. Forget I said anything. But getthese cats out. And fast. Have you tried ultra-sonics on them?"
Durval's face slipped into new lines. "Maybe," he muttered. Leaning overthe railing, he thundered, "Masters. Forget those cats a minute. Yes,forget them. Hook up an ultra-sonics sender and—"
The ship intercom over Durval's head clicked mechanically, hummed intolife. "Mr. Jerill. Report to Central Control. Mr. Jerill. Report—"
Scott jabbed the Acknowledgement button. As he swung around Durval heglanc