Tuf Voyaging

by George R.R. Martin

What the hell would she do with it, she wondered? Hard to say. Sell it to some arms consortium or the highest-bidding world? Doubtful. She didn’t trust anyone with quite that much power. Power corrupts, after all. Maybe she should keep it, run it. She was corrupt enough already, she ought to be immune. But it would get awfully lonely living in this morgue alone. She could hire a crew, of course—bring aboard friends, lovers, flunkies. Only how could she trust them? Rica frowned. Well, it was a knotty problem, but she had a long, long time to get a handle on it. She’d think about it later.

“I am disappointed,” said Tuf. “I have hied myself here at great difficulty to consult the spinnerets and cybertechs of Port S’uthlam, whose expertise is far famed and whose reputation for honest, ethical dealing is second to none. I did not think to encounter unexpected truculence and unfounded suspicions. I require certain alterations and repairs, nothing more.”

“excuse me, but some kind of goddamned vermin is rubbing up against your leg.” She sucked at her beer. Haviland Tuf bent and scooped up the animal. “Cats may not properly be referred to as vermin, Portmaster Mune,” he said. “Indeed, the feline is an implacable foe of most pests and parasites, and this is but one of the many fascinating and beneficial attributes of this admirable species. Are you aware that humanity once worshipped cats as gods? This is Havoc.”

Ugh. Writers and their cats.

“I am familiar with the ancient ritual of shaking hands, sir. I have noted that you are carrying no weapons. It is my understanding that the custom was originally intended to establish this fact. I am unarmed as well. You may now withdraw your hand, if you please.”

this book seems very targeted to introverts. I am not one.

“It is true that you command the fierce loyalty of numerous lackeys armed with nerveguns and lasers, while I am alone, a humble trader and neophyte ecological engineer, companioned only by his harmless cats. Nonetheless, I am not without certain small resources of my own.

“You do not appreciate cats sufficiently, Guardian. They are the most civilized of creatures. No world can be considered truly cultured without cats. Are you aware that all cats, from time immemorial, have had a touch of psi? Do you know that some ancient societies of Old Earth worshipped cats as gods? It is true.” “Please,” said Kefira Qay irritably. “We don’t have time for a discourse on cats. Are you going to bring that poor little thing down to Namor with you?” Tuf blinked. “Indeed. This poor little thing, as you so contemptuously call him, is the salvation of Namor. Respect might be in order.”

They were almost finished when Dax emerged sleepily from Tuf’s pocket and peered at her. “What the …” she said, startled. She rose so suddenly she almost dropped her computer. The kitten—well, he was almost a cat now, but still the youngest of Tuf’s pets—had long, silky hair as black as the depths of space, bright golden eyes, and a curiously indolent manner. Tuf plucked him out, cradled him with one arm, stroked him with the other.

CATS.

“Please do not presume to tell me my thoughts, unless you have developed psionic abilities in my absence. I would think no such thing, madam. I have found that it is almost always a mistake to assume that any human being is ever satisfied.”

And you and I have become the stuff of legends, Tuf, the most celebrated lovers since, oh, puling hell, since all those famous romantic couples from ancient times—you know, Romeo and Juliet, Samson and Delilah, Sodom and Gomorrah, Marx and Lenin.”

Then there were Ingratitude, Doubt, Hostility, and Suspicion. “The kittens,” Tuf called them, though they were really young cats now, “born of Chaos and Havoc, madam. Originally they comprised a litter of five. I left Foolishness behind on Namor.”

She made a disgusted noise. “Tuf, why are people such puling idiots?”

“I warned you a long time ago, Tuf. On S’uthlam, it’s not popular to be anti-life.” “I decline to be thus labeled,” said Tuf. “I stand squarely in favor of life. Indeed, daily I create life in my cloning vats. I have a decided personal aversion to death, I find entropy distasteful, and if invited to the heat death of the universe, I would most certainly make other plans.”

“Well, pity about your cat, Tuf. I know your feeling, yesyes, I’ve been through it a thousand times myself.” “A thousand times,” Tuf repeated flatly. “You might consider a strenuous effort to take better care of your pets.”

miao.