Kittul listened to Allie's breathing grow quiet and regular. Once sure the kitten slept, she snuggled a blanket around them both and drifted off toward sleep. Before she lost consciousness entirely, Karin flicked the switch with the ghost of her thumb and slipped out of Cat's Paw.
Her virtual desktop floated before her. Karin had become so used to being flung violently from her game that the smooth disconnection left her confused. She stared unseeing at the array of blinking icons awaiting her interaction with the Wider World.
Two icons caught her eye; the alert that told her the expert systems that assisted her with genetic manipulation had finished examining the new code base, which meant she was ready to get to work. The second icon clamoring for her attention? Her budget application. A quick check showed her why. When she checked if she could afford her new VR rig, she'd made a mistake. She wasn't overdrawn, but she had roughly half a month's rent left. That meant she had no choice; she had to get to work, and fast, before she wound up on the street.
Before she settled in to work on the new gene coding, she set up an automated contact search. She needed to talk to someone other than Vi about Cat's Paw, and the only other person she knew who played was Harry. Karin fed his name and his handle into the automated search, then got to work. Her electronic minion would alert her when it found Harry and he was available for contact.
That task done, she checked her vital signs, mainly to be sure she wasn't in danger of dying of starvation. Everything came up green. The new gear cost a pretty penny, but it did its job.
Karin dove into her work. First, she checked the alert list. Her expert systems, programs designed to handle the repetitive, boring parts of her job, made reports on everything they could handle and put together a list of alerts on anything they couldn't. Quite a few gene engineers only checked the alert list. Karin checked everything eventually, but she checked the alerts first.
A few things jumped out at her. The alerts had a high number of failure points. Unsurprising for something thrown together by an amateur, but what she'd reviewed of the project didn't have the feel of amateur work. Everything carefully documented, the custom code itself both robust and elegant, and the end product, while impressive in scope, didn't have anything that spoke of an amateurish wild goose chase.
Karin forced herself to admit that most professionals gave up on macro energy manipulation during their graduate studies, but she wasn't about to fault someone for chasing the same wild goose as her.
The next flag pointed her to some of the supplemental material. Normally a coder referenced amino acids and deoxyribonucleic bases and assumed another coder would know what they were talking about. In this case, the client sent along a host of information detailing the nature of each and every molecule. That was a little odd, sort of like sending a dictionary of accounting terms to your accountant when you sent her your tax information.
As she stared at the details the client sent over, Karin grew steadily more uneasy. Something about them looked wrong, and she couldn't, at first, put her finger on the problem. She took a closer look at the alert tag. In the details, one item stood out; a line item that read 'incorrect chirality'.
Living things were made of proteins, sugars and fats. Smaller molecules linked into chains to form larger ones. The smaller molecules frequently had two configurations, loosely referred to as 'left-handed' and 'right-handed', but only one would work. The technical term for the configuration was 'chirality'.
Cold fingers tickled through Karin's gut as she flashed through the supplemental materials. In almost every single case, the chirality was wrong. Almost no terrestrial food would provide nutrition for an organism made up of the wrong kind of molecules, and that was just the start. Karin smirked at the amateurish mistake.
Her smirk faltered when she reminded herself how she'd just been thinking about the consummate, almost obsessive attention to detail that had been lavished over the data. It didn't make any sense for someone to do all this work, all this research, and get something so simple wrong.
Shelving the mystery of her client's odd levels of knowledge, Karin turned to the last major flag. The final supplemental file contained neither genetic data nor supplemental descriptive text. The expert systems hadn't identified it, so they flagged it and left it for Karin to decipher. A quick check of the file type showed her why her systems hadn't recognized it; a painfully small, simple, obsolete executable file. It would barely display a simple message. Karin recognized the type from a class she'd taken with Kent, back when they'd both been undergraduates.
The client reached her through Kent. The file didn't seem to fit with the rest of the data. Kent would have remembered their class together; known she would recognize the file for what it was. For an endless second, she hovered on the edge of destroying the file.
In the end, she pulled back because it would be just like Kent to send her some final instruction, then refuse payment because she didn't follow it. She created a small virtual computer to run the executable file, then loaded the program onto it. The screen floated in the virtual space before her, the program loaded, and words began scrolling up the screen.
Help me.
Save me.
Free me.
Please, for the love of God.
Kill me.
The message repeated, endlessly scrolling down the screen. Karin stared at it for a while, then shut down the virtual machine. She would be damned if she let Kent screw up this contract for her. She opened her mail client and composed a text only email.
Rat Bastard Kent - Please forward this to our new client immediately.
To whom it may concern.
Potential food sources contraindicate the usage of the chiralities listed in your supplemental material. An organism utilizing those chiralities would require additional supplemental digestive enzymes, customized symbiotic organisms for carbon and nitrogen binding, and could still potentially develop allergic reactions when confronted with biologic molecules of conventional chirality.
In addition, it appears your completed organism is intended to manipulate macro level energies. Without more details regarding the desired effects, I have little ability to test whether the organism is functioning as designed.
Please reply soonest, as I am ready to begin work presently.
Awaiting your reply,
Karin Padgett
Kent - don't get cute and try to edit this, or I'll find some other way to pay my bills.
Karin
She debated whether she should try to find the client's email address herself, but she really was ready to start working immediately. She sent the email, ideas for how to implement the symbiotic organisms she mentioned in her email already percolating through her mind. She pulled up data on Rhizobia and various species in the Frankia genus. She would need to start with one of them for nitrogen fixation. While that data transferred to her local system, she searched for information on cyanobacteria. She could go with an alga for carbon fixation, but she preferred to stay in the same kingdom when possible.
When the data on cyanobacteria filtered down from the Wider World, Karin felt like a fool. She'd forgotten that some cyanobacteria did nitrogen fixation as well. Staying in the same phylum worked even better than staying within the same kingdom. If she got lucky, she might be able to get a single species that had all the features she was looking for.
The moment she realized that, her rig pinged her that she had data waiting. Of course the Frankia and Rhizobia data got there just as she realized she didn't need it. She was in the zone, and before she purged it, she absentmindedly opened it on the off chance that some of the sequences would inspire her when she started working with her cyanobacteria.
It wasn't bacterial data. It was a reply. From Kent's email. Before she could brace herself, his voice washed over her. Her stomach clenched, but it was a distant thing. Before she started heaving, her new rig detected her physical distress and applied a mild anti-emetic. Kent's voice washed over her, and Karin forced herself to focus on his words.
"Dearest Karin,
"This is exactly why one should, whenever possible, work with professionals. I... the client, that is, had not even begun to consider the possibility that organisms might use other chiralities. Thank you for bringing that to my attention."
Buoyed by the medicine coursing through her system, Karin concentrated on Kent's words rather than his voice. His voice sounded off, but she couldn't figure out the problem without focusing on his voice rather than his words. If she did that, no amount of medication would keep her from heaving.
"There are multiple purposes for the energy manipulating modifications of the nervous system. The primary purpose, however, is to create a spatio-temporal instability. More detailed information is attached to this message. Please review the additional supplied data regarding required energy levels, granularity of control, and modifications to the central nervous system required to successfully create such an instability.
"Regarding the chirality issue, if the body is created with the amino acids exactly as described, my Researchers assure me energy manipulation should function normally. If alternate chiralities are used, no such assurances exist."
Kent had something seriously off about him, but Karin couldn't let herself think about that, or about him. Instead, she focused on the words; she needed the symbiotic organism she was cooking up. That was a good thing; she was already so focused on it she wouldn't be able to do anything else until she made it happen. Mild guilt tickled at her; she put together an email asking Vi if she knew of anyone looking for nitrogen and carbon fixing symbiotic organisms suitable for human use. The end of Kent's message washed over her as she did.
"Again, let me say that it is a pleasure to work with such a dedicated professional."
Kent stopped, as if in sudden realization of something. When he continued, he spoke just a touch faster, as if he had to finish his message quickly.
"I keep hoping that once I'm not the one paying your bills, you can forgive me. No one else was ever as good for me as you were, and I only realize that now that I realize I may have lost you forever. For the sake of what was and what might be, finish this up quick, Kare Bear."
Karin set her system to download the new data, then deleted Kent's new message. The client's answer was simple enough that she couldn't forget it. The rest of the message belonged in the trash, like the remains of the roses in her kitchen.
She had her answer. A little while later, she had the cyanobacteria data she'd gone looking for. The new supplemental information was there, but she wasn't ready for that yet. First things first. She dove into her coding with an intensity she barely remembered. She missed the feeling, something from a time before she'd started changing herself.
Hours later, a priority message shocked her out of her coding trance. Vi had called, and waited on her response. Idly, as she paused her work, she noted that Harry had seen her looking for him and sent her a message, but he wasn't waiting for a reply. Vi was. The moment Karin accepted the connection, Vi's voice hit her ears like a soprano tidal wave.
"Karie? Are you ok?"
Karin tried to banish the vague distracted tone in her own voice, but it was hard. Some part of her still toyed with the final tweaks to her customized e coli bacteria, and the client's supplemental requirements document floated in front of her eyes. The portion she'd been reviewing when Vi called was a video mockup of the completed organism, and she found the visuals fascinating.
"Yeah, I'm here, Vi. 'Sup?”
If anything, Vi sounded more concerned than she had before.
"What do you mean, 'sup'? You flake out on me, disappear after Kent got out of jail, and the only thing I hear from you after that is that you're taking a job from him. The hell, Karie? Are you letting that walking waste of oxygen get his paws on you again?"
"No, Vi. I'm doing one job for him. Then I'm done with him forever. You heard his message. Is it binding?"
For a second, Karin thought she'd sidetracked Vi, but it was a forlorn hope. With a sigh, she paused the video and set it back thirty seconds.
"Yeah, it ought to be. We'll have to fight with him regarding actual numbers, of course, but I'm sure I can pin him to rent, utilities, food, and clothing. That statement about your current lifestyle is a bit dodgy, especially since you've gone from being antisocial to being a recluse over the past two weeks, but we'll be ok.
"Which brings me back to you. What the hell am I supposed to think when you don't respond to knocks on your door, emails, or anything else for damn near two weeks? For all I knew, Kent had broken into your place, worked his mojo on you, and had you making more movies. Hell, for all I knew, Kent was editing your first and final starring role in a snuff film while I chewed my nails off!"
"You can't chew your nails off, Vi. The hair mods make them too tough."
"Don't change the subject. How do I know you're not falling for him again?"
"Because every time you say something like that, I throw up a little in my mouth. If you want, you can come by later. Pick a time, then ping me with a priority message."
Vi's wordless, growling response sounded angrier than Karin had ever heard her. When Karin realized why, it took everything she could do not to cry. Vi worried about her. Not about the income she represented, or the liability she might cause, but about her, as a person. Intellectually, she'd known that all along, but hearing it in Vi's voice choked her up.
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
"Oh, god, Vi. I'm sorry. I didn't think. I've been bouncing back and forth between Cat's Paw and work. I didn't even think about the fact that Kent was out. I figured if he planned on coming over, he'd have visited already. Please, I'm sorry. Forgive me?"
Mercurial as ever, Vi went from furious to conciliatory in a heartbeat.
"It's okay, Karie. I know how you get when you're working on something, and I was the one who told you to get away from it all for a while. Just... don't ever disappear like that on me again, okay?"
Before she spoke again, Karin accessed her front door's recognition list. Before her paranoia could stop her, she flicked Vi to full access. That let Vi come and go as she pleased, as well as letting Vi add additional people to the list, like paramedics.
"Karie? Are you there? I swear to god, if you've flaked out on me again, I'm going to come over there and... and... spank you, that's what."
"You won't have to knock if you do."
"What are you talking..."
Vi stopped in midsentence as she realized what Karin had just told her. Karin listened, her eyes wandering over the organism mockup floating in front of her. After a few false starts, Vi spoke once more.
"Oh, Karie. Are you sure you're okay with that?"
"No. But I need to trust someone, and it looks like you're it."
"Aw, I don't know what to say. Okay, yes I do. I'm going to stop by and check up on you now and again, got it?"
"Got it. Bring some of that Mongolian barbeque when you come. I'm famished."
"Yeah, yeah. You only love me for my fabulous taste in food."
"Probably. Look, I don't mean to cut you off, but I was right in the middle of coding when you called. I'm not sure I'll be able to get back in the zone if I don't get back to it right now. Are you okay with that?"
Vi sounded concerned but resigned. "Sure, Karie. I really am going to check up on you, though. If I find out that Kent is doing anything other than paying your bills and acting as gofer for this mystery client, I'm going to kick both your asses."
"If I'm letting him do anything more than that, I deserve it. I'll see you later, Vi."
"Later, Karie."
With that, Karin was alone again. She tried to get back into the zone, but it was no use. Even the mocked-up video footage of the organism she worked to create didn't help. Thoughts of Kent and how he'd used her kept interfering. After over an hour, she realized she’d spent half the time staring at the video as it looped endlessly.
It was mesmerizing. She recognized the optimal facial feature placement from her own work. The eyes were just a touch over-large, with square pupils, almost like a goat. The nose and mouth thrust forward, turning the lower half of the face into a short muzzle. When the mouth opened, it showed canines large to the point of being fangs and tusks. The ears curled to points at top and bottom, making Karin think of old movies about elves and aliens. Last but by no means least, fine red scales covered the custom organism's skin. The scales, combined with the shape of the ears and teeth, thrust the thing firmly into the uncanny valley.
Karin looked at the thing with rapt fascination, unease stirring in her gut. Even knowing why it attracted her, she couldn't look away. Even knowing why it disturbed her, she couldn't banish the queasy trickle of fear that seeped into her as she watched it move. The fact that the organism was naked, hermaphroditic, and generously endowed only made both reactions worse.
That last bit finally got to her. She pushed the data away, bringing up Cat's Paw as she did. Harry had left a message for her, but she was too upset to listen to it. She recorded a voice reply without thinking about it.
"Hey Harry,
"I wanted to talk to you about Cat's Paw." As the words left her mouth, Karin realized that she was about to open up to a stranger she'd met on the bus. He might think she was hitting on him. She couldn't deal with that while she dealt with Kent's bullshit, especially after the episode with Val. "I'm going to take a solo stealth run at the Agency. I might need a hand." The excuse sounded lame in her own ears, but it was the best she could do.
Dissatisfied, and sure that wasn't going to change any time soon, she sent the message and slipped back into Kittul's skin.
***
Kittul stirred from her nap, Allie a comforting weight against her back. Each time she slipped back into her skin, Kittul felt more and more disconnected from the world she dreamed of while she slept. Part of it was the sheer sense of horror, of powerlessness she felt there. A bigger part was how useless her successes there seemed. Here, she took care of another person, someone who had no one else but her to turn to. There, she worked for the very man who had abused her.
Thoughts of Kent and his contract annoyed her awake. She checked the data in her head; it still hovered there, mocking her with her near comprehension of the protein structures involved. If she was ever going to understand it, she needed to get moving. A quick check showed that Allie slept normally, her breathing deep and even. As long as she kept eating, her Shifter metabolism meant she would put on weight rapidly until she regained a healthy weight for her age. While it did that, she would sleep a lot.
That was probably for the best. Kittul wasn't a counselor, nor was Karin. In the absence of someone trained to deal with Allie's trauma, rest and sleep was the best thing Kittul could think of. She brought three cans of tuna into the bedroom, left them on the nightstand, and then left a trail of cans back to the cabinet. It wasn't much, but Kittul didn't know how long she would be gone.
Next, she dug through Zed's desk for pen and paper. After she did, it didn't take her long to realize that whatever other skills she possessed, writing wasn't one of them. Eventually she had to settle for painstakingly drawing each letter out one at a time. Her note, originally intended to be a lengthy apology for how she'd deceived her roommate and benefactor, wound up being painfully simple.
Zed,
Running errand. Sorry so shy. Allie abused, needs home. Back soon.
Thanks, Kittul.
She taped her simple note to the living room wall across from the couch, pulled on her threadbare clothes, and snuck out the door.
***
Her first destination was a strip mall with a cell phone store. It took a bit of misdirection, and she felt a little bad for the salesclerk who spent so much time flirting with her in front of the security camera, but in just under an hour she had a brand-new top of the line tablet. It wasn't connected to the internet, but she didn’t need a connection. She just needed a portable computing device with a compiler on it. The model in her hand didn't normally boast a compiler, but at least half of the time in the store was spent letting the salesclerk show her he was nearly as good with technology as he was bad with people.
A while spent wandering through the crowd in the strip mall's anchor store got her enough cash for a bus ticket. Part of her felt guilty, but something deep inside said that anyone wearing a suit and tie to go shopping in a low-end department store needed to have his wallet lifted. While she waited at the bus terminal her fingers danced madly across the tablet’s screen, manually entering the code for the old version of Carnivore stuck in her head.
Kittul continued typing when the bus arrived. She unplugged her tablet from the wall, got on the bus, plugged it into the lighter, and kept working. By the time she reached the outskirts of Washington D.C., her code was compiling.
***
Inch by inch, Kittul crept toward the massive concrete structure that housed the Agency. A lap around the outskirts of the grounds made it clear that the easiest way in was right along the edges of the driveway. Every other approach was laden with motion detectors. Whoever installed them wasn't worried about the health or well-being of trespassers. While she watched, Kittul saw a Canadian goose, flying at the bottom of its formation, cross the invisible line in the sky that delineated the grounds of the Agency building. A hidden turret deployed, oriented, and fired a series of silenced rounds in the time it took Kittul to see what was happening. The bloody, ragged mess that hit the ground was enough to turn even her carnivorous Neko stomach.
The only place where motion wasn't met by immediate deadly force was the long, straight driveway. There wasn't much of a margin on either side, but Kittul wasn't a big cat. Carefully dragging her purloined tablet along by the makeshift carrier she'd wrapped around it, she advanced toward the Agency building, inch by careful inch.
Behind her she heard a car's engine slow to an idle. The gate slid open on nearly noiseless hinges, and the engine approached her. She slid into a loose prone position, hoping that if anyone saw her, she would be taken for roadkill. The car passed without incident, but when she tried to start forward again, her tablet snagged on a root. Before she realized what was happening, it flipped up and over. From less than ten feet away, Kittul heard her death lift rise on carefully maintained hydraulics.
She froze, not even daring to look in the direction of the automatic turret. Eyes half closed, unable to twitch as much as an ear, she listened as the turret tracked back and forth as if seeking the source of the earlier motion. After nearly a minute of seeking, silence returned. Kittul stayed motionless, hardly daring to breathe, as her heartbeat slowed from a relentless hammering she'd been certain the turret could hear. Endless minutes later, just before she started to creep forward again, she heard the hydraulics lower the turret into the ground. Denied its prey, the camouflage cover sounded almost petulant as it snapped back into place.
Kittul let out a long breath she'd been unaware she was holding. Some part of her realized that the only reason she could keep herself crawling forward was the fact that deep inside, she knew she was in a game. If this was real, she would be frozen in terror, unable to move until someone found her lying on the side of the road. As it was, she drew on instincts that were part of her feline body, moving forward step by careful step, now conscious of her tablet and ensuring that it slid smoothly along behind her. By the time she reached the parking lot, full night had fallen.
In amongst the cars, Kittul shifted to her Neko form and lifted her tablet. The compilation was complete, and her machine was ready to take a crack at the Agency's network. A quick check showed that the Agency was at least minimally concerned with electronic security; the only wireless networks visible were in a few of the pricier cars. Flowing along the ground like a shadow, Kittul made it to the building without setting off any more alarms. From a spot under a darkened window, she stared at the door. There were guards inside, visible through the glass of the doors. If they'd had her night vision, if she'd been one whit less stealthy, they might have seen her already. She couldn’t wait for morning and follow the crowd. She had to find a way to distract them.
After a while spent pondering the situation, she brought her tablet back to life. In Karin's world there were radio frequency blocking materials. If the Agency was built of similar materials, they might have a secure internal wireless network that wasn't visible from outside the building. If she was close enough, she might be able to catch a signal, even if it was a poor one.
A few minutes spent staring at the list of networks disabused her of that notion. She was so used to the Wider World, where everything was interconnected, and the best security was obscurity, that she couldn't really relate to an organization that would deliberately cut themselves off from the rest of the world. The thought frustrated her so much that she set her Carnivore to work on cracking the security on the most expensive car on the lot.
The software proved its worth. In seconds, she stared at all the electronic controls for the car. Ignition, sound system, climate control, lights, brakes, even steering could be controlled by the car's computer. Kittul tried the ignition, just to see if she could. From the parking lot she heard the quiet sound of an expensive big block vee eight engine coming to life. The moment she did, a plan formed in her head.
First, she hacked a few of the other cars. Not all of them could be controlled like the first one she'd chosen, but after a few minutes she had four cars under her control, engines running and awaiting her orders. Kittul sent each car a simple set of instructions on a delay, then slunk toward the door of the building.
The first car, a nondescript midsized sedan, flicked its lights on and launched itself toward the building with a squeal of rubber on pavement. With no one behind the wheel, it didn't even try to avoid the small concrete curbs set up to break the lot into lanes. It drove right over them, wrecking its undercarriage. Inside the building, one of the two guards stood, moving quickly to the inside of the door. The rogue car kept accelerating straight toward the far corner of the building from Kittul. At the last moment, it turned, not away from the building, but directly into the wall.
The tremendous sound filled the parking lot. The wall didn't crumple, but the glass in the windows broke into a thousand crazed fragments. Unfortunately, the fragments didn’t fall. The windows were at least as tough as automotive safety glass, and the refractory plastic sandwiched between the glass layers held them together. The automobile caused only superficial damage to the building. The car itself, however, was totaled. While Kittul sat watching the security guard, the engine coughed and died.
The guard stepped up to the inside of the door. When he realized he didn't have the angle to see the front of the building, he swiped his ID badge across the front of it and stepped carefully through. Without stepping further, he motioned to the other guard, then pulled out his radio and murmured into it. Even with her Neko hearing, Kittul couldn't make out his words. She held her breath and triggered the second car. The imported sports car's high beams stabbed through the dark, striking the building in the same spot as the first impact. It shifted into gear and screamed toward the building, the radio blaring so loud it could be heard even through the closed windows. The guard in the doorway took half a step back until he realized the car was heading nowhere near him.
This time the impact sent shrapnel flying. The car careened off the first kamikaze, slamming into the building at an oblique angle. The impact threw shards of auto glass, building, and landscaping around the parking lot. Some landed on Kittul, singeing her back, but she held herself still while they smoked themselves cool. The guard in the doorway leaned out, examining the wreckage, then muttered into his radio again. This time his words were simple and harsh enough for her to make out.
"Another one, dammit."
Kittul counted to five. Right on time, the third car, a big SUV, came to life. Windows rolled down, hazard lights flashing, radio blaring and high beams stabbing through the dark; it raced the length of the lot. The guard shielded his eyes with a hand and watched it approaching. It careened off a light post, killing all four lights on the post, and then aimed itself for a spot directly between the two prior impacts.
Kittul smiled a feral grin. She'd gotten lucky with the second car. She originally meant it to hit the rear of the first one, but this looked even better. The guard in the doorway drew his sidearm and leaned out, his full attention focused on the SUV. His radio squawked a single phrase, "Engage target!" The guard's weapon came up in a flash, the clip emptied faster than Kittul thought possible. Each one slammed into the hurtling SUV. Most did nothing more than smash the glass and ruin the bodywork, but one hit a tire. The truck kept rolling forward, but now it veered toward the second car.
The guard switched clips so fast Kittul knew he must be some form of supernatural being. She worried about the rest of her plan, but even as she worried, she snuck forward. The engine in the SUV revved, and the guard emptied another clip full of rounds into it. This time he focused on the engine compartment. As the last round struck, the engine died explosively, sending the hood of the truck hurtling through the air.
A tiny smile flickered across Kittul's face. It was too late, and the guard didn't even realize it. The SUV was moving too fast to stop now, and its weight carried it into the side of the building, shattering windows and sending bits of concrete into the side of the building. Worst of all for the guard, the gaping hole in the side of the building wasn't his biggest problem. The moment the SUVs engine cut out, his head snapped to the left, to the section of parking lot left dark by the downed lamp post. The huge, dark shadow of a big luxury vehicle loomed meters away and closing. Without lights, without any sound but the finely tuned engine, it hurtled toward the front doors of the Agency.
Less than a second before impact, both guards moved. Kittul did the same. The guard in the door leapt toward the car. His trailing foot clipped the edge of the roof and sent him spinning to the ground. The guard behind the desk dropped behind the shelter of the big information desk. As she jumped through the door only feet ahead of the big sedan, something tore at Kittul deep inside, ripping her soul and body asunder.
***
Karin blinked, staring at the Cat's Paw login screen. Her gorge rose as disorientation twisted at her gut. She grabbed at anything to keep from vomiting. A simple option dialogue floated in front of her virtual eyes.
"Forced Disconnect. Reconnect? (Y/N)?"
She'd left Kittul in the middle of a combat situation. She had to get back; without her directing the Neko, she would be dead in seconds. With a thought, she initiated the reconnect procedure.
***
Kittul looked around. She crouched in a low, dark, dusty space. The floor shifted slightly under her paws, and every few feet small metal beams separated the floor. After a moment spent clutching her jaw to keep from vomiting and another spent looking around, she identified her location. She lay above a drop ceiling. Cables ran to and fro, connecting the offices around her. The leather cord to her tablet PC was gone. Panicked, she crept about looking for it. She found it a few feet away, petite tooth marks showing where the leather had been gnawed away.
Something moved in the room beneath her. She froze, hardly daring to breathe. She listened while the person puttered about. A flushing toilet clued her in to what lay below, and she relaxed.
After a few moments of careful, quiet searching she found a network cable. Dragging her tablet behind her by the remains of the strap, Kittul followed the cable to a network switch. Thankfully, it sat on a sturdy shelf in a network closet rather than atop the drop ceiling in an office. She shifted back to her human form and perched on the shelf. Idly, she wondered what someone would say if they walked into the closet right now and found a naked woman playing with the network hardware.
After a few minutes of work she had her tablet physically connected to the network. It was a stretch, but the tablet's connector cable reached the ceiling. She pushed the tablet above the ceiling, crawled up beside it, and then switched back to her cat form. It wasn't terribly convenient, but it was far easier to hide as a cat than it was as a girl.
The interface on the hacking tool was simple enough for her cat paws to initiate. After that it was just a matter of waiting. She settled in, sliding her eyes closed to slits, and slipped off into a catnap.