And then the cat pounced!
The cat had seized her homunculus by the thigh; she knew the tiny bone had been crushed. She caught fleet, dizzy impressions of the animal striding off proudly with the little creature between its jaws. The letter lay where it had fallen, under the dispatch machine, almost invisible.
The doll ceased her blind writing and drew a tiny black cylinder from her belt. The cat's right eye loomed huge above her.
Mentally, Perat studied the chessboard position with growing interest.
"Idiotic Terran game," he growled. "Only a Terran would conceive of the idea of calling a crushing defeat a drawn battle. I'm sorry I taught you the game. It's really quite—what was that?"
"Sounded like the cat, didn't it?" responded Evelyn.
Her tiny alter ego had dropped from those destructive jaws and was dragging itself slowly back to the dispatch. It found the message and picked it up.
"Do you think something could have hurt it?" asked Evelyn.
The doll struggled toward Gorph's desk, leaving behind a thin red trail.