“May I join you?”

Izzavert Vree, who had been quite jealously guarding his privacy and incidentally the only unoccupied chair in the over-crowded dining room, prepared to bark out a brusque “No” and send the interloper on her way. Instead, he found himself saying “Please.”

As a non-humanoid sentient hive colony Vree was not, of course, attracted to humanoids. Truth be told, all humans looked alike to him. But this one had vivacity, a sparkle, which was attractive to even a non-humanoid.

An ocular being himself, he immediately noticed her eyes. They had a slight, upward slant to them and were a warm, tawny shade, though he detected hints of sapphire and jade in them also.

As for the rest of her, she seemed of average height for a human, which meant she did not quite reach the top of his colony canister was he standing, and her proportions were distributed uniformly. She was not baring her teeth in the manner humans seemed to feel was ingratiating. Vree privately considered it a very unattractive mannerism and was pleased that she merely nodded and said “Thank you” before taking the empty chair.

He was prepared to be coolly polite and discourage conversation. Though he had been foolish enough to allow her to sit with him, he did not have to put up with the foolish questions and ideas humans inevitably trotted out when in the presence of a hive colony. However, rather than staring rudely and chatting, the human female ignored him to sip at her drink and look over the crowd.

Piqued in spite of himself, Vree turned his attention to the other diners, trying to ascertain who or what had captured her interest.

The star liner Wandering Star’s ultimate destination was Liji, in the Moset Cluster, a paradise planetary system that catered to all sentients. The passengers, therefore, were a mix of species. There were Robrtians, easily identifiable by their many flexible appendages; Joldians, a short statured, large craniumed eel-like race; soft-shelled Prens; Tohagian rock-heads, who resembled floating rocks; a few Aparians like himself; Pantu Conian snow slugs, and various humanoids. Vree could see nothing interest inspiring about any of them.

“You enjoy crowd watching?”

Vree returned his attention to his companion. While he had been studying the others, she had been looking at him. “It is a way to pass time,” he said cautiously, still unsure if he wanted to converse. “I am Izzavert Vree.”

“Cat Diablo,” she said.

The name was nothing more to Izzavert Vree than a collection of syllables identifying that particular humanoid. He merely nodded his canister in acknowledgement and deliberated on whether to continue the conversation or let it die a natural death.

Had that particular collection of syllables been uttered in the presence of one of the Thousand Galaxies’ many law enforcement officials or its equal number of criminals, the reaction would have been quite different.

The name ‘Cat Diablo’ was legendary, infamous even, among those who enforced society’s laws and those who broke them. Her exploits were invariably extra-legal, and while they more often than not lightened the coffers of the unjust, they were not the sort of activities that agents of justice could openly and comfortably support.

Cat was a sort of modern privateer, holding a self-issued letter of Marque which allowed her to plunder the plunderers of the galaxies. As she had a fairly broad and catholic definition of what constituted a pirate, she often found herself on the wrong side of someone who was paid to be right. She did not, as a rule, allow such things to determine her course, but continued on her way seeking adventure and profit with equal enthusiasm.

Had Izzavert Vree known any of this, he would have been most properly shocked and quite eager to extend the conversation; however, as he did not know, he uttered the prosaic “It’s rather crowded this evening.”

As that was an inarguable fact, Cat agreed, adding, “It’s the best time to see celebrities.” Her mouth curved upward and a slight indentation appeared beside it, then disappeared. “Some beings enjoy rubbing shoulders, so to speak, with the rich and famous.”

Vree, who as a young hive colony had once camped outside a Chartassan hotel for two days and nights to catch sight of a Neld flora dancer, gave the hive colony equivalent of a superior sniff and said, “Is that why you are here? To see the rich and famous?”

He decided he rather liked the sound of Cat’s laughter. It had a throaty undertone he found quite pleasant.

The dimple flashed again as Cat said, “Oh no. This is strictly a vacation for me. I’m not the least bit interested in celebrities at the moment.”

It was then that Fate stepped in as it so often did in Cat’s life and sent her off on an unexpected path. Just as she finished speaking, she felt an icy splash against her bare shoulders. Swinging her gaze around and upward, she was met with the sight of an empty glass and an unapologetic expression. “So sorry,” said the man, his tone matching his expression. “Get me another drink.”

Cat blinked and bridled at the effrontery of the command until she realized it was directed at one of the sycophants orbiting the man. He might have been considered handsome were it not for a certain sulky pout to his mouth and the hardness in the obsidian eyes. In a room where most of the humanoids and non-humanoids had taken some effort to dress formally, his attire was contemptuously casual, though not inexpensive. Cat’s experienced eye noted that the price of the syncot jeans and hand woven shirt would cover the cost of her two week vacation easily, while the bribe he would have had to pay to get an exemption to wear boots made of endangered thundolizard skin would have paid the salaries of the below deck crew for a month.

He said no more, but continued his progress across the dining room, drawing looks of interest, envy and various kinds of lust. Justy Tanaka had that effect on people.

Cat knew who he was of course. Every sentient in the Thousand Galaxies knew of Justy Tanaka. He was First Terran stock, which made him Thousand Galaxies royalty. He personally owned several planetary systems and his multi-galaxy corporation held title to hundreds more. He worked hard, played harder, and never denied himself what he wanted.

“It seems you have rubbed shoulders with the rich and famous after all.” Vree handed Cat his clean napkin.

Cat wiped at her now chilled and sticky skin. “Not an experience I wish to repeat any time soon,” she said. “I’ll make a point to avoid Mr. Tanaka when he is in the proximity of a drink.” She dropped the napkin to the table and stood. “Excuse me, but I need to go to my cabin. Perhaps we’ll see each other again.”

It was to be Cat’s night for meeting men under initially inauspicious circumstances. As she skirted the crowded room, she was pushed from behind and lightly crushed against the wall by a warm body. Turning her head, she encountered a flushed face, a pair of brilliant green eyes, and the unmistakable odor of alcohol. “Sorry,” the man slurred.

Cat tilted her head back against the wall and eyed him. He was a bit taller than she, as most people were. What she could see of his face was pleasant, if unremarkable. The impression she was receiving of the rest of him seemed quite nice indeed, which encouraged her to say, “Well, I’m not, but suppose we take this someplace else?”

The green eyes blinked rapidly several times, but no comprehension enlightened them.

Cat sighed. “Could you please get off me?”

More blinking before the inebriated brain understood Cat’s words, then another long moment before he stumbled backwards. Only Cat’s quick reflexes kept him from falling to the floor.

Like all felines, Cat possessed a keen sense for, and an inclination to court, trouble. It made the hair on her arms stand on end and her heart pick up tempo. Looking at the swaying man in front of her, Cat felt the familiar frisson across her skin. Her lips curved into a smile.

Cat practically purred. Here was an especially attractive package of catnip she couldn’t wait to open. Let Curiosity try to kill her. It was a lovely way to go.

The decision, that was never really a decision, made, Cat took his arm and led him toward her cabin.

Yasuo Ootsuka woke with a pounding in his head, a feel like fur in his mouth, and a woman curled up beside him in bed. She was watching him with amused, tawny eyes. “Good morning,” she said.

“Ummm,” he said, trying to remember the previous evening. Roger – there was a long, convoluted, and not particularly amusing story as to why Yasuo was called ‘Roger’ – was not used to waking up with a hangover or a strange woman in his bed. Or rather he was not used to waking up with a hangover in a strange woman’s bed, as a panicked glance confirmed the luxury room was most definitely not his econo-class cabin and that those were the clothes he had put on the previous evening folded neatly on a nearby chair. “Ummmm,” he said again, rather weakly.

“Not a morning person I see,” said Cat. Her dimple made an appearance as she smiled and wiggled a bit, causing the sheet to slip off her bare shoulders.

“No,” said Roger cautiously. He was normally quite conversant, but the present situation was somewhat awkward, what with him trying to resist the urge to pull the concealing sheet down just a bit more.

“Would breakfast help, do you think?” With a sudden movement Cat rolled out of the bed.

Roger yelped, closed his eyes, and pulled the sheet tighter about himself. When he heard her throaty voice ordering the Old Terra Traditional Japanese breakfast for two from the processor, he risked cracking open an eye and sighed with a mixture of relief and disappointment. Cat was fully dressed, or as fully dressed as someone in an abbreviated top and shorts could be. Though the scenery was not what he had expected, Roger was not complaining. Izzavert Vree might not be able to tell one human from another, but Roger was quite sure there were very few human women put together as nicely as Cat.

“I hope you like rice,” said Cat, sinking onto the edge of the bed.

Roger nodded and, unobtrusively as he could, inched away from Cat. He was uncomfortably aware that, while she was dressed, he was not and the situation was becoming painfully awkward.

“A shower might help,” said Cat. A smile that could only be described as ‘wicked’ curved her lips. “We have a few minutes before breakfast is ready.”

Though he didn’t remember his hostess’s name, Roger could not help but be reminded of a cat playing with a mouse. He couldn’t move or look away as she leaned closer. He could feel her warm breath against his cheek as she whispered, “I’ll wait for you in the other room.”

In the instant it took him to blink and comprehend, Cat was off the bed and across the room. Pausing and posing at the door, she said, “But don’t keep me waiting too long.”

The complimentary blocker he found in the medicine chest and the hot water sluicing against his skin restored some of Roger’s equilibrium. He was not under normal circumstances a man easily rattled. However, the circumstances leading to his boarding the Wandering Star and everything that followed thereafter were not normal. It was to be expected then that he approached breakfast with his unknown hostess with some trepidation.

She smiled over the rim of her cup as he took his place at the table, but said nothing. Keeping one wary eye on her, he picked up the ohashi and began to unwrap them.

“So, Roger, suppose you tell me more about The Mystery of Mamo.”

The chopsticks broke and fell unheeded to the floor. Roger stared, then stuttered, “I don’t know – I don’t – I should go. Sorry.” He stumbled to his feet, but before he had taken a step, Cat’s hand was on his arm. He couldn’t help but notice the strength of her grip.

“Don’t be nervous,” she said. “I want to help.”

Roger responded more to the tone than the words he barely heard through the confusion that gripped him. He allowed himself to be seated again and automatically picked at the food in front of him, while he answered the questions Cat put to him – questions which proved how voluble he had been the evening before. Part of him writhed in embarrassment at his lack of control, while part of him began to hope as he had not allowed himself to hope since the nightmare of an affair had begun.

Strangely enough, it never occurred to him to distrust Cat’s words or worry that he had confided in the wrong person. There was something about Cat that inspired trust, and while that quality had led to many a crime lord’s downfall, it had yet to cause trouble for an honest person.

The story began with Roger’s ancestor, the first Yasuo Ootsuka, a producer of animated films in Old Japan. One movie in particular he had considered his crowning achievement, The Mystery of Mamo. When it had been released for consumers on video, Ootsuka had received the first copy, one that included special extras unavailable to the public, as well as an accompanying case signed by the cast, crew, and creator of the series the movie was based upon. It had become the Ootsuka family’s most prized heirloom.

“It’s a good movie,” said Roger. “It has action, adventure, danger, humor, romance. Everything real life doesn’t,” he added, finishing his rice. His appetite had returned under the interested and sympathetic attention of his hostess, but now, remembering where the story was headed, the food lay uneasily in his stomach. He pushed the bowl aside. “It never won any awards, but….” His words trailed off. “The entire family gathers to watch it every year,” he said. “The celebration lasts for days.”

“And the tape is examined regularly,” Cat confirmed.

Roger nodded. “Every few years a professional restorer cleans up the film and audio. I was the one who handed it over this year.”

As the eldest direct descendent carrying Ootsuka’s name, the tape was Roger’s responsibility. When he’d taken it to the restorer the family had used for a century, he’d found that she’d retired and the business was in new hands. Phlu Laum had seemed quite knowledgeable when Roger questioned her.

“And of course her references were impeccable,” said Cat.

Roger nodded. “They all checked out.”

Cat shook her head at the naïveté of the honest. It was neither difficult nor time consuming to fabricate fraudulent identities, businesses, or references that “checked out.” Most people expected a reference or referral to be good, so they rarely looked beyond the surface.

“I trusted Laum,” said Roger and now anger tinged his voice. “When she returned the tape I never thought to check it then.”

It had in fact been a week before Roger opened the case Laum had handed him. There had been no need. She’d shown him the movie at the studio where the restoration was done. It had been perfect. She’d given Roger the video and jacket in its specially designed storage case, accepted the credit transfer, and their business had been concluded.

Later, when Roger opened the case in front of the entire Ootsuka family, there was nothing inside but a gel-like substance.

“Laum switched your tape with a morph-gel copy,” said Cat. “It holds the form of the original for several days before dissolving. It fools most people at a quick glance.”

Roger took no comfort from her words. He barely heard her. He was too lost in memories of the confusion, horror, and shame that had gripped him when he’d opened the case and seen the looks on his family’s faces. “The police, the insurance investigator, my family thought it was a scam,” he mumbled. “My own family thought I’d stolen from them.” His green eyes were dull, dead looking. “They couldn’t find Laum. They thought I’d made it all up.”

“But you managed to trace her here, to the Wandering Star,” Cat said gently.

“She mentioned it, said she was going to take a working vacation.” His voice was as lifeless as his eyes. “I thought I could make her give it back. I have money. I was going to pay her; but when I went to her cabin, she denied she had it, laughed at me. She had Kitsas with her. They threw me out.” He shuddered at the memory of the ursine-like claws that had easily lifted him off the floor, the fetid smelling snout that had been thrust into his face, and the effortless strength that had thrown him into the hallway. “I went to the captain, but Laum had already called him, told him I was crazy, a stalker. He said he’d confine me to my cabin if I didn’t leave Laum alone. That’s when I went to the bar.” He dropped his head into his hands. “There wasn’t anything else I could do.”

“You’re right,” Cat said.

The brisk statement brought Roger’s head up, an indignant expression on his face. He had expected sympathy, commiseration at least. Instead he received a cool verbal slap.

“You can’t do anything.” Cat stood up. “But I can.” She waved Roger down as he automatically started to rise. “Stay here. Don’t open the door to anyone-I can get in on my own-and leave everything to me.”

“Bu—,” Roger’s protestation was cut off by Cat’s mouth on his own. Though the kiss caught him off guard, he quickly became an enthusiastic participant. When it ended, he was left blinking and dazed. He was still trying to catch his breath when Cat closed the cabin door behind her.

And still he didn’t know her name.