He heard Jack pointing out to Dr. Romadka that now that they had the green cats, there wasn’t going to be too much use for psychoanalysts or for thought police and commissars, and Romadka was reminding him that most of the commodities peddled by Fun Incorporated, including male-female wrestling, wouldn’t have much of a market either.

He heard Carstairs, Llewellyn and Buck talking about organizing a chivalric order that was to be called the Knights of the Green Cat.

He heard Juno Jones telling Moe Brimstine how ever since her farm childhood she’d always liked animals better than humans and was very glad that an animal was going to help her change her mind – and where was that little rat Jack? Moe Brimstine explained to her in reply that he’d spent so much time getting the jump on people that he’d never learned to understand them – while poor old Hans Billig had jumped around so fast he’d never noticed people at all.

He heard John Emmet and Dave Greeley talking green cat logistics – how would they ever manage to blanket the whole world with the creatures?

He heard Morton Opperly and Dr. Garnett talking something way over his head about esp-nexuses and thought lines and which galaxy did the cats come from in the first place?

He took Mitzie Romadka’s slim tired hand and assured her that he loved her and that he thought that violence and jealousy and even revengefulness were admirable up to a point.

But he never lost sight of his chief purpose. As he approached the low walled box from which Lucky was still peering calmly, President Barnes left off assuring Mary Akeley that the directive for the destruction of all cats had already been cancelled, and came over to Phil and threw his arm around his shoulders in a fatherly way and said, “Hi, young fellow, I hear how you were pretty close to this cat for a couple of days. Sorry I’m going to have to be taking him off your hands.”

Phil straightened up. “You’re not,” he said, “Lucky is my cat.”

“Well, see here, young fellow,” Barnes protested amiably, “I’m the president, so I have to have one of these cats. Emmet has one already and the Humberford Foundation really needs one, and there are only three in the country. You heard the young lady from Vega say it.”

Several people and the two satyrs wandered up, attracted by the argument.

“I don’t care,” Phil said, greatly encouraged by the tightness with which Mitzie’s hand gripped his. “I know that this is a cosmic crisis and all that, but this is my cat and I fed it and I’m going to keep it. C’mere, Lucky.”

Lucky jumped out of the box into his arms.

“I guess that proves it,” Phil said.

Barnes looked at him just a bit indignantly and there were all sorts of murmured comments, but just then they heard a tiny and varied mewing. It came from the box from which Lucky had sprung.

They looked in and saw five tiny duplicates of Lucky nosing their little conical faces upward.

Dytie said, “They small, but they just much good big pussycat, just much helpful.”

Barnes said, spreading himself around, “Why, now there’ll be one for the Army, the Navy, Dr. Opperly, myself, that goon back east who thinks he’s going to be the next president…”

“Now Bobbie,” Opperly suggested, “don’t go giving away more kittens than you’ve got.”

“… and, I was about to say,” Barnes finished calmly, “one for this young fellow here.”

Phil looked down at Lucky cradled in his arms. “So you’re a she after all,” he said.

“Oh no!” Dytie burst out excitedly, half out of her cloak and half in it. “You no un’erstand Vega. On Vega sex different. On Vega it’s like…” and she screwed up her face, seeking for the word.

“Kangaroos,” Opperly interposed.

“Yes!” Dytie exclaimed triumphantly. “Only this difference: wife carry babies while, then babies go in father’s pouch, he carry rest time. Everybody help. Later on, babies leave pouch, nurse from mother. Take off pants, Dion, show pouch.”

But Dion refused rather indignantly.

“Vega men much modest,” Dytie observed to Phil. “Anyway, Lucky is he.”

About the Author

The author of many novels and short stories, including GATHER DARKNESS and The Lankhmar series, Fritz Leiber won many awards, including the Hugo and Nebula, and a Life Award for his contribution to his field, presented at the Second World Fantasy Convention. He died in 1992.