for what?â
âWarm flesh,â Peggy said.
I felt my heart thudding in my chest, and try as I did, somehow I just couldnât swallow. My mouth filled with saliva. Iâd soon be dribbling, like a sky-shark, if I wasnât careful. That, or Iâd be its dinner.
Thereâs always a problem with âright hereâ. You ever noticed that? Other places suddenly seem to have their unsurpassable advantages, and where youâre actually at right now doesnât look so great any more.
âGemma ⦠donât worry ⦠just donât move quickly â¦â
Peggy didnât need to say that. I wasnât going anywhere.
âJust wait â¦â
I did.
In the old world â so Peggy told us once â the planet was mainly water. Bits of land, but mostly water, and the fish were happy to stay in the sea. They swam under you or alongside you. But they couldnât come out of the ocean and swim right next to you or swoop down on you from above, or decide to follow you home. I could now see all the pluses of a place like that.
âWait and see what itâs going to do â¦â
The Great Blue hovered there, fins beating. It flicked its tail and spun around. If Iâd reached up, I could have touched it, leathery skin and all. It could move so fast it was like it hadnât moved at all, just changed position by willpower alone.
âDonât bother it and it might go â¦â
I had the boathook in both hands now. Iâd slowly reached out and got it. But those teeth could have crunched it into pieces. Peggy was standing as still as a rock, and Martin was staring at the Great Blue, watching the balls of saliva drip from its gaping mouth and splash onto the deck, landing with a kind of sizzle, as if they were acid.
âItâll go. Just leave it and itâll go â¦â he said.
It might have done too, if it hadnât been for your friend and mine. Heâd been down below sniffing around in the galley, looking for titbits, but now here he came, up the steps, fat-faced, lazy-eyed, good â as usual â for nothing. Botcher. Botcher the sky-cat. A nice, warm-blooded snack.
He saw the sky-shark hovering two metres above him, froze solid, and then decided he needed the toilet. He had my sympathy. I felt the same.
âBotcher, not on the â¦â Peggy began, but she trailed off.
Funny how things that donât really matter â given the circumstances â still seem to matter somehow. Standards, Peggy was fond of saying, have to be maintained.
The Great Blue saw him. Fat, friendly-looking sky-puss. Good old Botcher. A nice little lap-warmer and a tasty morsel too.
The sky-sharkâs eyes appeared to work independently of each other. One swivelled to look down at Botcher; the other kept on staring directly at me.
âGem ⦠heâs going to eat Botcher â¦â
To be honest, in some ways, it seemed like a sacrifice worth making. If it would eat Botcher and go away ⦠well, you can always get another fat, useless sky-puss without any trouble. But then, weâd had him for years, and it may have been a bit of a strange-shaped family, but he was a part of it, in his bone-idle way.
âOne of the eyes, Gemma â¦â
Iâd known that instinctively. But just the thought of it turned me over. The stomach, the throat, the chest â that I could do. But it had to be something that would stop it in its tracks.
The Great Blue flipped a fin and spun round again. It angled in for the kill, tail up, nose down. Botcher sat looking at it. You might not believe that a sky-cat could sob, but he did. He was just a big ball of absolute terror.
Then the Great Blue opened its mouth wider, ready for the big, swallow-whole bite. You could see all its teeth, both sets of them, and sharp as knives.
âGemma â¦â
I knew I had to do it and I wanted to do it with my eyes closed. But that would have been
âWarm flesh,â Peggy said.
I felt my heart thudding in my chest, and try as I did, somehow I just couldnât swallow. My mouth filled with saliva. Iâd soon be dribbling, like a sky-shark, if I wasnât careful. That, or Iâd be its dinner.
Thereâs always a problem with âright hereâ. You ever noticed that? Other places suddenly seem to have their unsurpassable advantages, and where youâre actually at right now doesnât look so great any more.
âGemma ⦠donât worry ⦠just donât move quickly â¦â
Peggy didnât need to say that. I wasnât going anywhere.
âJust wait â¦â
I did.
In the old world â so Peggy told us once â the planet was mainly water. Bits of land, but mostly water, and the fish were happy to stay in the sea. They swam under you or alongside you. But they couldnât come out of the ocean and swim right next to you or swoop down on you from above, or decide to follow you home. I could now see all the pluses of a place like that.
âWait and see what itâs going to do â¦â
The Great Blue hovered there, fins beating. It flicked its tail and spun around. If Iâd reached up, I could have touched it, leathery skin and all. It could move so fast it was like it hadnât moved at all, just changed position by willpower alone.
âDonât bother it and it might go â¦â
I had the boathook in both hands now. Iâd slowly reached out and got it. But those teeth could have crunched it into pieces. Peggy was standing as still as a rock, and Martin was staring at the Great Blue, watching the balls of saliva drip from its gaping mouth and splash onto the deck, landing with a kind of sizzle, as if they were acid.
âItâll go. Just leave it and itâll go â¦â he said.
It might have done too, if it hadnât been for your friend and mine. Heâd been down below sniffing around in the galley, looking for titbits, but now here he came, up the steps, fat-faced, lazy-eyed, good â as usual â for nothing. Botcher. Botcher the sky-cat. A nice, warm-blooded snack.
He saw the sky-shark hovering two metres above him, froze solid, and then decided he needed the toilet. He had my sympathy. I felt the same.
âBotcher, not on the â¦â Peggy began, but she trailed off.
Funny how things that donât really matter â given the circumstances â still seem to matter somehow. Standards, Peggy was fond of saying, have to be maintained.
The Great Blue saw him. Fat, friendly-looking sky-puss. Good old Botcher. A nice little lap-warmer and a tasty morsel too.
The sky-sharkâs eyes appeared to work independently of each other. One swivelled to look down at Botcher; the other kept on staring directly at me.
âGem ⦠heâs going to eat Botcher â¦â
To be honest, in some ways, it seemed like a sacrifice worth making. If it would eat Botcher and go away ⦠well, you can always get another fat, useless sky-puss without any trouble. But then, weâd had him for years, and it may have been a bit of a strange-shaped family, but he was a part of it, in his bone-idle way.
âOne of the eyes, Gemma â¦â
Iâd known that instinctively. But just the thought of it turned me over. The stomach, the throat, the chest â that I could do. But it had to be something that would stop it in its tracks.
The Great Blue flipped a fin and spun round again. It angled in for the kill, tail up, nose down. Botcher sat looking at it. You might not believe that a sky-cat could sob, but he did. He was just a big ball of absolute terror.
Then the Great Blue opened its mouth wider, ready for the big, swallow-whole bite. You could see all its teeth, both sets of them, and sharp as knives.
âGemma â¦â
I knew I had to do it and I wanted to do it with my eyes closed. But that would have been
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