A Little More Conversation

Evening in the Library Arcanium was still quite full of activity. Mostly because it was still midday for many people, and those who didn't have obligations in Real Life were coming on duty just as those for whom it was past dinnertime were beginning to relax.

Alice was introducing Robert to Enya music and helping him on his archive binge for his exam while Louise sat on the floor of their room and puzzled out a new red Magic deck. Red and Danielle were having a 'dye-off' in one of the largest public bathrooms, challenging each other to get the funkiest colour. There was a large TF2 campaign going on in the Library's main auditorium, plugging the games consoles into the eye-wateringly massive screen.

Down in the basement, Tash and Rhia were trying to make the chore of feeding the Sues into something more fun. The latter was the one officially on duty, but roping in the former's enthusiasm to help with dinner had made things much easier. They had seen a cooler full of ingredients, a portable stove and the largest wok anyone had ever seen being brought down into the duty office and dinner for twenty-four hungry inmates made fresh instead of being boringly replicated from base proteins and sugars.

The smell of the properly authentically-prepared stir fry permeated the prison, chasing away some of the residual sour smells from repeated hoarding attempts. Many of the inmates savoured the aroma, bellies rumbling in anticipation; for several months the food had been very good, but though while many were enjoying the new diet, some of the more cynical Sues were still adamant that it wouldn't last.

But once more, these skeptics were reduced to a chuntering, but mostly semi-grateful silence as the high-spirited Tash began doling out large, full bowls of a delicious-looking jumble of meat strips, vegetables, noodles and sauce, all bound together and glossy with richness and freshness. She started in the cells closest to the door and began to work her way back, often disappearing back for more while those who had been already presented with their bowl fell upon the meal with great relish. Several even called for seconds, to be answered with Rhia's giggle and a reply of "Wait until everyone's fed their firsts first!"

A low, satisfied banter rumbled softly around the basement as Tash gave Block C their dinner. She handed a bowl to McLaren, who gave a grunted "Thank you" in response. It was clear that the Stu was hungry as, after first looking through the contents of the bowl, he twisted some of the noodles around his fork, and shoveled them into his mouth.

It tasted very good, just as good as it had smelt; although there was something at the back of his mind. Like a tiny warning signal. Something was wrong.

He looked around at his fellow inmates. Tash was just finishing off doling out D Block's dinner, and the others were eating with gusto. It was obvious that no-one expected this change of attitude to last, and were going to make the most of it.

McLaren placed a hand briefly on his stomach. He was beginning to feel a little nauseous. Maybe it was the lack of food that had been there previously.

He twisted a second forkful of noodles up, and started to eat them. It was a little harder to eat this forkful. A knot in his stomach was trying to tell him that something was most definitely wrong. He forced the second mouthful down, wincing a little as he swallowed.

Leaning forward, McLaren felt his head spin. His breath was now coming in short gasps, but he was determined to finish his dinner. With slightly shaking hands, he clung to the bowl as he inserted the fork for a third mouthful, but the utensil slipped through his fingers as he picked it back up, and clattered to the floor.

Bending down slightly to pick it up, he heard Holly's voice from the next cell over. Their beds were on opposite sides, and in using it as a seat they faced each other.

"McLaren?" She sounded concerned.

"Fork…" he gasped, still trying to reach it.

"Oh dear," she said, leaning through the bars and collecting his fork, and handing it to him. McLaren's fingers wrapped around the metal, but as Holly released it, there was a loud clatter as it hit the floor again.

Holly was now really worried. She reached as far through the bars as she could. Fingers just brushing McLaren's hand, she gently asked, "McLaren, what's wrong?"

McLaren had leant forwards, his elbows resting on his knees. He was shaking and his breath was now panicked gasps.

"Ryouga," Holly called to McLaren's other neighbour, "can you hold McLaren up? Make sure he doesn't fall off his bed…"

Ryouga turned, saw that something seemed off, and nodded. His bed was practically touching McLaren's on the long edge, with just a wall of steel bars separating them. He reached through his bars to hold on tightly to McLaren's shoulders.

Holly looked around. The leader had long finished dishing up the first round of stir-fry and had retreated to the office to have her own helping. Neither she nor the agent on duty had no idea that McLaren was ill.

"McLaren…" Ash now came to the corner of his cell, which joined on to both of theirs. Reena was watching silently, and Kerrie was beginning to panic herself.

"Leave off him, Ash." Holly defended to sick inmate, but the look on Ash's face told her that he was just as concerned.

McLaren was wheezing, seemingly unable to get enough air. His vision was tunnelling, his arms and legs were tingling enough to become painful, there was a hot feeling in his chest and an inexorable sensation that he was about to die. Holly's fears rose further as she noticed a growing puffiness around his eyes and red welts forming on his skin wherever Ryouga touched him.

Ash looked in shock at the growing emergency, and then down at his bowl.

Ryouga was beginning to find it tough to keep both of them upright. "Holly, we need to get help."

"They won't listen!" shrieked Kerrie.

"They will – there's no way this isn't real," said Holly.

"We need to GET them to listen first," said Reena, thinking logistically. "We're too far down from the office…"

"Hey! B Block guys!" hollered Ryouga suddenly. Somehow, a lot of them hadn't noticed the drama, but at his yell many looked over. "Get the agents' attentions! We need them down here. McLaren's ill. Pass it on!"

Declan, alone in A Block and the only current inmate in green, realised his name was being shouted through his reverie of a good book and a good meal. He could see the struggle playing out two blocks away, and the notes of alarm in the voices of those shouting at him to act.

And act he did.

"TASH! RHIA!" He licked his fork clean and banged it against the bars. "GUYS!"

Rhia, mouth full and hogging a bowl of her own, popped her head out of the office on a wheely chair. "Huhwha?"

"Rhia, someone's become ill. People are worried. They need help. C Block I think –"

"Someone's ill?" said Tash, popping her head out at a taller height than Rhia.

They just about made out a cry of "he's barely breathing!" from somewhere deeper within.

Tash was galvanised into action. Throwing her bowl on the side, she swept up C Block's keys and grabbed the green first-aid box from a shelf. She bounded down to the third group of cells – and paused to take in the scene.

There was only one thing that could elicit such wheezing, swelling and bright red hives like this…

"Oh shit, he's going into anaphylactic shock!" she said, scrabbling for the right key to McLaren's cell. "RHIA! Get the med staff down here!"

Rhia vanished, and a low alarm began to sound that would only be heard in the hospital wing.

Tash threw the barred door open and hurled the box onto the bed. "McLaren? Okay, listen to me – we've got to get you to calm down. Ryouga, keep him up for me…"

She wrestled with the bowl he still clutched, placing it under the bed. He grabbed for her hand and mouthed 'help me'…

"We will. We are. I promise. We need you to breathe. Breathe…" She dug around in the first-aid box with one hand, growing frustrated as she slowly realised this box had no adrenaline autoinjectors whatsoever…

McLaren was beginning to turn blue, almost pleading with Tash silently to not let him go. It seemed an age before she heard Phoenixia and Valerie's voices.

"Tash?"

"Oh God."

"Have you injected him?"

"No! There's none in the box!"

"Damn it! Hold on… Val, take his other hand!"

"Guys, we know you're lovely, can we borrow some pillows?"

They laid McLaren down with a pile of pillows propping up his head, and Phoenixia dug a packet of autoinjectors from her larger, EMT-stocked medical case. The first one she cursed at and tossed away for being out of date. The second was acceptable; she pulled off the cap and pushed the tip of the pen against McLaren's thigh, holding it in and allowing the needle to penetrate the fabric of his trousers and into his skin.

"Will that work?" came Holly's voice again.

"It won't be enough. Get him stable and then we can get him out…"

All they could do was try to keep him breathing, which was a losing battle.

Further up the basement, some of the girls who made up the right-hand edge of B block heard footsteps and a swish of fabric; they saw Adrian respond to the alarm and stop to take in the situation.

"Adrian!" shrieked Deliha, causing the Librarian's head to snap towards them.

"Something's happened to McLaren!" said Aaliyah, kneeling on her bed and clutching onto the bars.

He took a step towards them. The entire block stared at him fearfully.

"Tell me more," he demanded.

"I – I don't know, he was just eating his food, and then – and then he just fell down," gabbled Maria.

"Nixie was saying something about not having enough –"

Tiffany was cut off by Adrian nodding. "Right. Thanks girls – I think I'd be more useful upstairs." And without a second glance he turned and ran for the stairs.

By now Phoenixia had intubated McLaren; despite the adrenaline, it was going to get worse before it got better, and she decided the risks of attempting to get the tube down his swelling throat were not worth the increasing danger of shutting off his airways all together. Valerie and Tash's hands were nearly getting crushed; wherever something touched his skin, violently red wheals rose up.

Finally the three took a stretcher, fed into the cramped cell by Rhia, strapped the Stu to it and the two medics raced for the stairs.

And suddenly the energy in the basement dropped. With no more drama to see, the shock from the inmates was near tangible. Tash and Rhia stared at the empty cell, then looked up at the silent press of yellow, punctuated with orange, blue and a singular green around them. Dinner had been almost forgotten…

…Almost.

Ash broke the silence by hurling his quarter-empty bowl out the slot in his barred door, turning his back on it as it shattered on the concrete floor. He pointed straight at Tash.

"Poison."

Several Sues jumped at the smash, and at that single electrifying word, stared at him in disbelief.

"That's it, isn't it? You've gone through all this pretense of better food and better timing all to cover up the FACT, proven now, that you are planning to kill us all off." He turned to address those in his block and in the block behind. "Better get ready people, this is the beginning. They're bumping us off one by one. We're never going to see him again."

Both Rhia and Tash gaped. To their disappointment, several Sues nodded slowly in assent.

"Are you insane?" choked out Tash. "What would we have to gain from that?"

"Oh I don't know; suddenly a lot less work for you!"

"Our reputation's already down the toilet! Why would we make it worse?" said Rhia, her voice rising through the octaves.

"Look," said Tash heavily, trying very hard to stay coherent. "If we were going to knock you all off – which we're not – why would we go to the trouble of poisoning you and then calling for help?"

"To make it look better, obviously!"

"No! We wouldn't have done it. Look, we cooked the entire thing in the same huge wok, which I don't think has been used before today. The bowls are unmarked, the food is the same, Tash gave them out randomly. Only one has fallen sick!"

"Then how come I've lost my appetite?" came Fabian's accusing voice from behind them.

"Yeah, seems mighty convenient to me," agreed Alexander Whitestone, still in orange, from D Block.

"Rubbish!" yelled Declan from nearly at the entrance.

Many voices rose as the argument threw back and forth. Others were silent, wondering if this was the end of good treatment. The cell at the other end of C Block seemed completely empty, but the girls knew the inmate well enough to know that Tabitha would be hiding under her bed. Her neighbour on the other row was the only Sue in the basement who hadn't bothered to care about the drama and the ensuing argument whatsoever; Roxelana continued eating nonchalantly, reading a magazine.

Tash growled angrily. "This was an allergic reaction, for God's sake! No one else is going to get sick! This was not poison, and it's not an illness. It was bad luck. That's all there is to it!"

"But what could he have reacted to, Tash?" asked Rhia, turning towards her. "Especially to that extent. What did we put in?" She glanced to the ceiling, trying to remember. "Noodles, chicken…"

"He never said he had an allergy this bad, otherwise we would never have fed him anything that could have set him off. It was all normal fresh food, and we'd have known by now if he reacted to any of that!"

Rhia had paused in the middle of counting the ingredients on her fingers, her eyes suddenly wide. "Tash…we cooked it in peanut oil…you wanted it authentic…"

The taller woman's breath caught in her throat. "Crap. That's very possible." She bit her lip and met the gazes of the Sues around her. "But – why didn't he tell us? Oh God, that's stupid, not to mention dangerous!"

"Oh, so you DID poison him!" Ash grinned triumphantly. "That's a confession, you murdering bitch!"

"For the love of Christ!" gasped Tash. "Are you deaf or just stupid? I just said we didn't know! He never told us!"

"Cut it out, Harth!" snapped Matthew Slaymaker, the third blue T-shirt of the basement and in the block behind the two agents. "You're over-reacting. She didn't know of the allergy and neither did we."

"Thank you, Matthew!" said Rhia.

"Believe what lies you bloody want, and more fools you if you keep eating their shit. But you mark my words; no-one's making it out of here alive. And to think I almost believed that this hellhole was getting better."

"Y'know what, I don't have to listen to your garbage. Because that's what it is, GARBAGE!" Tash turned on her heels and almost ran for the exit.

"Tash – where are you going?" Rhia ran after her. She could tell that Tash was about to burst into tears.

"Fuck knows!" she yelled over her shoulder.

As the basement door banged shut, there was a last tense moment, and then several of the Sues sighed, almost deflating. Others glared towards Ash, who looked morbidly triumphant.

"Well done Ash, you twat. Well done," grumbled Reena, staring at McLaren's empty cell.

OoO

The clock on the sterile pale walls read two in the morning. By now everyone was either asleep or beginning to think of it.

Out of the usual inhabitants, one individual had more need for regular sleep than the others. And rather stupidly, but adamant that she could catch up later, she was the one awake enough to watch the clock hand tick over.

Alice yawned and sat back in the padded plastic chair that was one of those seemingly spawned endlessly by hospitals. This room was one of the couple of multi-functional individual units that were tucked away on one side of the hospital wing, and contained little more than her chair, the bed, associated medical paraphernalia, and of course that damned clock.

In the bed was McLaren, still recovering from his severe allergic reaction in the basement – and several subsequent relapses each an hour after the last, just as they thought he was out of the woods. He was being pumped full of adrenaline and fluids, and the constriction had lessened enough to allow him to breathe unaided again, after having passed his breathing test, even though he was still being assisted via an oxygen mask and the monitors kept a close eye on him.

The med staff had adhered to the tenets of their occupation, but they weren't happy with him. Few others could bring themselves to feel much more than contempt for the arrogant teenage Stu, but the leaders were frustrated that all their hard work over the past couple of months could have gone down the drain, as it proved McLaren still didn't trust them enough to tell them such important medical information. Alice herself thought he had been very silly… but there was something else that kept her by his bedside, waiting for him to wake so she knew he would be okay.

Why?

He had been her first and only capture, her only tangible success during her entire time in the Society, and technically it wasn't solely her own.

He was blithely prideful and refused to listen, two things Alice did not value highly. He was caught in the Warhammer 40k fandom, a massive and dangerous universe where any Sue would likely die quickly, and be so obvious that those they could not influence could detect it and commence orbital bombardment, let alone catch the attention of the Society. Or, she smirked as she recalled her first mission, the 'Ordo Maria-Rosa', as had been blurted out randomly on the spot.

She did feel pity, the fearful looks on his face when all had gone wrong – seen against the Crimson Fists, momentarily during his brief rebellion in the Basement Incident, and when he lost control and succumbed to the allergen only a few hours ago – remaining a poignant thought.

As the clock ticked onwards, she finally watched McLaren stir in his bed, and mumble softly.

"McLaren?" Alice rubbed his arm gently. "We had to bring you to the hospital wing. You're going to be all right now."

He glanced around blearily, his gaze settling on Alice.

"Do you remember what happened?" she asked.

"I… I ate…" His voice was muffled by the oxygen mask.

Alice nodded, and he realised what he'd done. Heaving a sigh, his head flopped back into the pillows.

"Why are you here?" he asked; with his lucidity returning, so to was his usual egotism.

It took Alice several moments to respond. "I had to make sure you were okay…"

He didn't reply any more than a shake of the head. Alice patted his arm one last time and stood up. "McLaren, it's half two…I need to go to bed. I'll come visit you later, 'kay?"

"Sure…" he murmured, half-asleep, but clearly not believing her.

OoO

"Well, this is going to be interesting…" Alice murmured to herself as she wandered the corridors.

The meeting called that late morning, waking her up, had summed up a few items of news that they already knew. Unexpectedly a new mission demand had come up at the same time; in her usual exuberance she volunteered to go, pulling Robert in with her. She paused briefly as she wondered whether he actually wanted to go, and hoped he was all right with it…but then she remembered they were heading into Sea Monsters, and always enjoying a well-made documentary, she couldn't resist. She wondered whether she'd get to see a Tanystropheus, her favourite long-necked piscivore archosaur.

After the meeting and the subsequent lifesaving lesson from Harriet, they had gathered in the Wardrobe, and issued with their gear for the boat. Alice wore a bright yellow T-shirt and knee-length blue shorts, belted securely and topped off with a buoyancy aid vest. She was always a little dubious about shorts as they showed off her legs, which she considered to be a little too meaty for viewing…at least she had no need for a wetsuit, as she would not be diving because it was far too great a risk to her epilepsy. Not that she minded.

They had been given half an hour to gather some personal stuff or faff while they finished packing the yacht. Alice, bag in tow, had decided to check one last time on McLaren.

Past the beds of sedated agents recovering from Plot Bunny bites, she slipped past Phoenixia – who was plugged into some personal music player and was bopping silently as she did a few chores around the Hospital Wing – and pushed open the door to the individual unit. She heard the latch click closed behind her.

McLaren was awake, and sitting up in bed. He wasn't hooked up to so many monitors now. A plate strewn with toast crumbs sat on the side table, but he looked bored.

"Morning," she chirped cheerily.

He looked at her, and past the moment of surprise, the usual resentment of his long-term situation settled back in his expression.

"You look a lot better," she continued, suddenly worried about his scowl. "How are you?"

Angrily, he lifted his right hand and tugged furiously on the strap locked around his wrist, handcuffing him to the bed rail. "How do you think?"

Alice's face fell, and she sighed, sinking into the chair by the side of the bed. She clutched her own wrist, memories coming thick and fast…and the singular thought that if Dave knew of this, he would be soundly pissed. "Oh dear…I'm sorry."

"No you're not," he snapped.

"McLaren…I am. I've been in your situation."

"Liar."

"They strapped me to my bed after the Basement Incident." She glanced at the look of cautious surprise, and gave a half-smile. "I was being violent."

"They said it's to stop me escaping," he said, a little less livid then before.

"Well…" His allergic reaction was long over, and after a good night's sleep in an actual comfortable bed and several rounds of buttered toast he was back to normal again. None of the individual wards had locks on the doors, so policy remained to handcuff any potentially mobile prisoner to their bed. She understood why, but knowing the helpless feeling such restraint gave… she didn't like it.

He watched her sigh, and slowly look up to meet his gaze. His eyes switched from black and grey to blue and yellow – matching Alice's clothes. "They said…" she continued, haltingly, "…they said that you're good to go back to the basement tonight."

"Oh, joy," he said, dripping with sarcasm.

"I'm sorry," she said again. "But surely… surely it's not… as bad as it was?"

He glared at her. "I'm not fooled. You'll forget about us soon enough and then it'll be back to starvation rations!"

"No, no…" She shook her head, trying, desperately trying to deny it. "You saw Harriet's big apology to you. We meant what we said… we… I meant it."

He snorted. "Really? We're getting punished now for hoarding."

"But that's really unhygienic!" she protested. "It goes all cold, and mouldy, and icky… I mean, it's not food any more. There are people getting stomach aches from that, how long until we get an E. Coli breakout, and…"

She trailed off under his withering glare.

"I'm sorry…"

"Stop being sorry. You're still lying. I've no reason to trust you or any one of you."

"What about Robert?" Alice asked softly.

McLaren paused for a long moment. "He's not been back since his hearing. What…what have you done to him?"

"Nothing! He's – I'm his – he's doing really well. He's taking the entry exam soon –"

"You've forced him to betray us!"

"No! No, this is his – his own choice! He's desperate to help you!"

"Bullshit!" He rattled his restraint further.

"It's because of what he said at his hearing that things have improved. Harriet wants him to be your go-between. Someone you have as an advocate. She's already preparing to name him Basement Welfare Officer once he passes – I've seen the brass sign for his door and all. This is really happening… I swear it is."

The surprise was evident on McLaren's face, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. He and Robert had been cell neighbours and they had more-or-less got along… as well as anyone in the basement could when faced with all McLaren's bluster. Ryouga had taken Robert's old cell when he had been put up for parole and moved to A-block, and he had not been as diplomatic as Robert.

He sighed. "Why do you care?"

Now Alice was silent.

"I… I felt… responsible. And nobody else… really…"

"You got me locked up here," he said, his voice now lowered, but with a sharp accusatory tone.

Alice nodded. "I did… I know. That's before I knew what it was like."

McLaren made a 'pfft!' sound, but he settled back into his pillows. He still looked very tired. Alice tilted her head at him.

"You need to rest…"

He merely grumbled something about being shocked that they even gave him a bed.

"You trust Nixie and Val? They wouldn't ignore your health just because you're a Stu. I saw you when they brought you upstairs…but you must have had a reaction before?"

"Hmm…" he mumbled. "I was eight. Before my powers kicked in. I didn't know it would come back because of this," he flicked the Prohibitor around his unrestrained wrist, avoiding the drip line in the back of that hand.

There was a moment of silence. Alice watched him go to speak several times. So many things left unsaid…

"What were you doing in 40k?" she asked eventually.

"Are things really going to change?" he asked at the same time.

She smiled for the first time. "McLaren… Robert's said that he wants us to help. He doesn't like the…the stress and the bias of the hearings, he wants us to try a different tactic, almost like rehab… Tash is already inadvertently trying this, because she's been talking to Tabitha about joining this little dance group thing, and she's jumping at the chance…"

"Huh?"

"…because the current parole system sucks monkey biscuits, and, er…" She watched McLaren nod enthusiastically, and she smiled. "I have a Ford KA, and a new little car I'm sending for its MOT before I bring it here…" She was beginning to ramble. "Well, what I mean is, would you want my help? …To start getting you towards parole one-on-one, like Tabby? I mean I really want to try… not keeping you locked up forever."

"I…" Slowly the glimmerings of hope came into his eyes, which changed to an almost normal brown and hazel.

"I'm willing if you are. But – you're still ill, so don't decide yet, mull over it for a while."

His mind was already made up, but he nodded anyway.

"You've got a nice big bed – god those bunks down there are like tissue paper, I think Robert's looking for better mattresses – so I'd enjoy it until tonight. I've got a mission to go for in – " she checked her watch, " – ten minutes, so I'd better skedaddle. I really do mean what I say, you know. Erm, but let's see – here," she handed him a remote control from a drawer.

He glanced up to a television in an upper corner. "What day is it?" he asked. "Anything Grand Prix-related on?"

"Probably, they're near the end of the season…there's always Dave and its constant reruns of Top Gear…"

McLaren nodded. Alice dithered for a moment, still recovering from the heavy accusations of not three minutes ago, and suddenly glad that she had Robert as a trump card. It seemed his coming role might be useful indeed.

"You've got a mission to go on, haven't you?" he said – unusually, almost uncharacteristically quiet.

"Yes. Er, sorry. I'm sorry about the anaphylaxis thing. I'll come see you when we get back from Sea Monsters."

She turned and headed for the ward door.

"Alice?" he said, just as she was about to step outside. It was the first time he'd ever used her name.

"Hmm?"

"I was in 40k… because I was trying to get my hands on a Land Speeder."

"Oh dear!"

Insert Bundles of Fluff Here

"Mrow?"

The white cat clambered out of the tangle of silken sheets, his emotions still racing but slowly being replaced by bafflement. He peered down, unable to resist the cat urge to wash himself. He then shook, and jumped off the bed and onto the rug.

And then there was a Librarian in the room. Something was wrong; he could feel it. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind and school his breathing to calm.

Then he felt it; an overwhelming pull, as if someone had thrown a rope around his spirit and was yanking him backwards. Almost as soon as he realised it, he was a cat again, the edge of the bed a foot above his head.
The violet eyes blinked, then scowled, and he transformed back. Now he was certain something bad was going on, he turned to the door, but realised two things before he put a hand on the handle.

One, he remembered what he had been doing, and his eyes returned to the bed. There was a scrabbly movement underneath the pile of sheets, and a squeak of alarm; he tugged back the silk, and there lay a beautiful black bicolour cat, with four clear white socks and large round mint-green eyes.

"Meow!" said the cat.

Tash…?

His jaw hanging open, he forgot himself and the world heightened again as he was pulled back to feline form. With a grunt he changed back for the third time, and scooped up the cat on the bed, who purred and rubbed her head on his bare chest.

"Ah…" Adrian thought, remembering the second thing…and just what he had been doing. Going a lovely shade of raspberry he glanced down and realised he was stark naked.

He let the cat jump back onto the bed and pulled on the nearest, cleanest clothes. He tossed a ubiquitous trenchcoat over an arm, picked up the cat again, and headed out of his room.

"Holy…!" He saw a lot more cats as he hurried down the corridors, and more worryingly, piles of clothes…he had a slowly-developing idea of where to go, hoping he was wrong…he stepped over and wove around cats as he went towards the tech labs.

A kind of vague pop tune floated out as he got closer to the labs, reminding Adrian somewhat of Velcro in the sound of it. As he peered round the doorway, he saw the only occupant in the lab obliviously humming along to the song, fiddling with a screwdriver and the back of a Walkie-Talkie.

Usually the tech labs were relatively bustling…he answered the question of where the others were as a tabby nearly tripped him up on his dart from Chevila's bonnet to the door.

There was also a large-ish rectangular machine on a trolley with its case off and smoking a little.

"Emily…" he ventured.

"Waa!" The young girl jumped about a foot and dropped her screwdriver. "Oh, Adrian! Sorry. I was jus' rewiring the talkie…"

"Yeah…" he turned to the rather sorry-looking machine, remembering what it was…

"I was gonna say but I forgot. The Anthropomorphiser kinda broke and started spitting sparks so I had to use the fire extinguisher on it. I went into it to fix it, so it's okay now."

Her voice beamed with confidence. "How did it break?" he asked warily, with the cat in his arms scrabbling onto his chest to rest her head on his shoulder.

"I was wanting to test it. You know, I think it has too many controls, it's like it Blue Screened on me."

This machine, a very new prototype invention of the techies, was designed to assist getting non-shapeshifting agents into anthropomorphic fandoms, from anything between Thundercats to The Jungle Book, hence the rather long name. Different levels between a hundred and zero controlled the amount of anthropomorphism created. Becoming alarmed, he approached it and wiped the soot away from its screen…

"Please don't be completely animal… please!"

It was on level two… the only thing missing was the mating instincts…

He sighed; at least that was better than he feared. He lost it again and was suddenly looking up at the Anthropomorphiser with the black cat on top of him; lights were still on within it, and machinery was still whirring.

He changed back; Emily hadn't noticed as she retrieved her screwdriver. He plonked the black cat onto the tabletop.

"Awww! Cute kitty!" Emily squeaked immediately. "Hello! Where'd you come from?"

"Emily… the Anthropomorphiser is still on…"

"Yeah I know. It'll reboot itself after it's cooled down and then it'll be working again."

"It's still emitting the transforming wave…"

"Oh it's okay, it hasn't been tested yet."

"Emily… that's Tash…"

She paused, looking up at him.

"You've made it work – but too well, and now it's broken…" he said, the truth dawning. "You've turned everyone in the Library apart from yourself into a cat!"

OoO

It had taken them two long, scratch-filled hours but at last every cat in the Library had been rounded up and placed in the same room, which had been piled up with cushions and boxes that were expendable if the cats decided to shred them. They had counted twenty-seven in total; Adrian had sent word to all those who were still out on missions or on holiday, and thus unaffected, to hole up somewhere in the fandom they were in and avoid returning to the Library until they had this issue sorted.

Emily longed to be in that room to play with the cats. Adrian had noted that every tail shot vertically into the air when they saw her; the cats also very interested in snuggling with and sitting upon the girl when they could get the chance. However he had sent her back off to the tech labs to sort out the problem with the machine – she had gone only through protest and Adrian's promise she could return later with cat toys and a camera.

Grouping the cats into one room kept them within view, but Adrian had a feeling that he needed to keep them distracted or there might be trouble, especially amongst the men. He was trying to think of a way of sectioning off the corridors that a nimble feline couldn't jump over or crawl through. They seemed to be more interested in him being in the room however, so he took the opportunity to figure which cat was who. He had a packet of markers and a long roll of white elasticated ribbon to tie round each cat's neck.

He pulled the white-socked black cat onto his lap first. "I know exactly who you are, catling," he said to kitty-Tash, stroking behind her ears and listening to her contented purr. He cut a length of ribbon and wrote Tash's name on the fabric, letting the ink dry for a moment before offering the un-inked part for her to sniff. He gently eased it under her chin and tied it around her neck, trimming the knot ends so it would be comfortable. The ribbon was stretchy enough to allow the cat to escape if it was caught dangerously and also to not choke them when they were turned back to human form, but he made it just tight enough to not allow them to scrabble it off themselves. He then placed kitty-Tash back on the floor sporting her new accessory, and she rubbed against his legs and curled up beside him.

He then looked around. One cat, an ordinary brown tabby with white patches on its belly and paws, threaded through the milling crowd and meowed loudly at Adrian.

"Hello, who are you?" Adrian said, picking the cat up and setting it on his lap.

"Meow!" said the cat.

"Uh… huh. You're just meowing. Umm, let's see…" He stroked the cat a few times to calm it, then with red cheeks and not believing he was having to do this, tentatively lifted the tail up to check the gender.

"Meow?" The cat blinked in surprise.

"Ah. Yes. Male. Okay. Er…"

"Meow!" The cat headbutted him gently.

"You're trying to alert me… to something wrong. So that means…" Adrian then noticed a smaller, slightly fluffier cat sat at his feet with its round copper eyes on the cat on his lap. "I think you're Michael?"

The cat's ears twitched at the sound of his name.

"Bingo," said Adrian, writing another ribbon and tying it round kitty-Michael's neck. "And that means you…" he said, letting him jump off and picking up the patient cat, double-checking under the tail, " – must be Claire."

Kitty-Claire purred in response, watching him write her ribbon. She was a calico, white separating the blotches of dual colour, but whereas the two other calicos in the room were black and orange with varying levels of white, she was a pale grey and cream. "Aren't you exquisite. There you go."

He picked up the next cat, a fluffy silver-tabby-and-white, who was much lighter than the other examples of grey in the room, which verged into the dark bluish slate colours. This cat meowed and flailed a little in his grip, and when set on his lap, turned and practically leapt onto his chest, licked the underside of his chin and nuzzled.

"Okay, you're Alice, I've never seen a cat who's actually tried to glomp me before," laughed Adrian, writing her ribbon out. The silver tabby was curious, trying to bite the lid of his pen. She sniffed the ribbon, sneezing as she came across the ink, which allowed him to slip it round her neck. "Now don't you go pouncing on everyone, young lady," he said.

"Meow!" kitty-Alice said happily, accepting a tickle on her neck before leaping down. Adrian followed her path, realising that the cats might be grouping together, and scooped up the tortoiseshell that she tried to leap upon.

"Hello there," said Adrian.

The tortoiseshell, a subtle mottling of orange and black with a single white sock, made a small noise and looked up at him. Adrian looked at her – as he discovered when he lifted the bushy tail, much to the cat's chagrin – then noted kitty-Alice's playful jumping from beside him, trying to catch the tail…

"Louise?" he enquired, and the cat's ears twitched and she meowed softly. "Aww. It's all right, catling. Here, have a ribbon."

He placed kitty-Louise back on the floor, whereupon she was immediately jumped upon by the silver tabby. He picked up a grey-and-white bicolour from nearby, the clear white arranged in a 'tuxedo' pattern against the fine steel-coloured coat. The cat crouched on Adrian's lap, his tail lowered; a clear submissive position, and a frightened one at that.

He stroked the cat gently for a while, trying to reassure him. Alice and Louise were at his feet. He knew exactly who this cat was; one who was still somewhat uncomfortable around Adrian at times.

"You must be Robert," he said, watching the twitch of a response. Kitty-Robert meowed quietly and curled up all the more. Trying to write the ribbon with one hand, he kept up the supporting strokes, talking softly and slowly drawing the ribbon around his neck so as not to startle him. He then picked him up and knocked over one of the stacked floor cushions, placing him on it and watching the two girls go to join him.

Adrian then managed to catch a particular annoyance of his – one cat who was forever pretending to be someone else, in her amusement changing her fur pattern every few minutes when he wasn't looking!

"Your eyes are giving you away, girl," he grinned at the cat in his arms, returning to his chair. Kitty-Phoenixia turned herself completely white and rolled onto her back, batting at Adrian's hand; her violet eyes, even more unnatural in cats than it was in humans, were the one unchanging thing, allowing him to spot her easily. She got a ribbon, and was shooed off.

He was getting better at identifying the agents. The cinnamon Van pattern who liked digging in the piles of cushions was Dave; he squirmed like the billy-oh when Adrian checked under his tail, though what really gave him away was the flash of luminous green in the otherwise amber eyes when his current pile of cushions toppled onto him. Kitty-Jess also struggled, quite considerably too, as if he had interrupted her love of tackling things. She was mostly white with a few black spots.

He finally found Valerie, who he noticed was weaving through all the cats and rubbing heads, purring softly and on a few occasions licking ears or necks compassionately. The cat, an Abyssinian-esque ticked tabby in a pale flecked fawn with a few residual brown markings on her head, ears, legs and tail and a white belly, also seemed to be shepherding some of the other cats away from the doors. She responded immediately to the sound of her name, bounding towards Adrian to sniff his hand.

The next cat he labelled he treated with the utmost care, for the fur was very long and silky, hovering around the ankles as it walked and settling into a soft mound when it sat. The tail was long and thick, making it troublesome to check the gender; the cat squirmed and sat down on Adrian's lap.

He took a moment to marvel at the almost ethereal-looking fur, knowing it would lead him to an answer. She was mostly white, but unlike all the other instances of white in the room, which were solid and bright like the colour of fresh milk, this white was tipped with silver so that it shimmered softly as she moved. The effect reminded him of moonlight. What also gave it away were the patches of light blue – actual blue – on the ears, back and tail.

"Aster?"

It was surprising how elegant Aster looked in cat form, and Adrian was very careful when he tied the ribbon on her neck. It compressed the Persian-esque ruff, and made her look a bit silly. She meowed indignantly at him.

"Sorry, catling," he chuckled, placing her back on the floor.

He then turned his attention to a pair of cats in the corner: the second calico, patched orange and black almost everywhere aside from a white belly and chin. It was playing with a small milk pan and carried a butter knife in its mouth, placing the utensil in the pan and taking it out again. The only thing that could be seen of the second was a pair of teal-green eyes glowing in the shadows; it joined in the game of 'find-the-butter-knife'.

Adrian picked up the calico, pretty certain of who it was. A quick check under the tail – and a shocked hiss from the cat – confirmed it.

"Hello, Rhia," he said, carrying her to his chair to make her a ribbon. She pawed at him playfully, tempting the second cat from the corner; she leapt down newly-ribboned, and Adrian swooped upon her partner, trying to slip away.

Adrian was nearly scratched as he checked under the tail. The slender cat was a jet black self, reflecting grey in the light and with no sign of rusting at all.

"Even as a cat, Cristoph, you're still a ninja…" said Adrian. Kitty-Cristoph struggled as he tried to tie the white ribbon round his neck. "Yes I am making you more noticeable. I know." He set the cat, who was more long squirming legs than body, down next to kitty-Rhia, who purred and rubbed against him, their tails entwining.

Harriet was easy to detect, as she was the grey marbled tabby playing with a cricket ball. Tom, also a grey but a ticked tabby similar to Valerie, took a little thinking – and more squirms – as he checked the tail, but Adrian realised that most of the archaeologists in the room were enjoying digging their way into (and through!) piles of cushions as if in search of treasure. He also identified the last calico in the room, who bore only a sprinkling of orange and browny-black across her otherwise-white ears and back, as Karissa, simply by the virtue of sneaking round all the other cats before she made herself noticeable by falling over dizzy.

He also realised that the groups were definitely hanging together. He tempted the next two closer by clucking gently – another black-and-white bicolour and a graceful green Oriental colourpoint. The green of the Siamese, from grass-green on the paws, face and tail fading to white on her body, gave her away immediately as Lily. Adrian smiled; not even Prohibition could defeat the base coding of one's phenotype, meaning whatever made Lily green would stick around.

"And that means you…" Adrian picked up the bicolour. It was male, but that was expected. Then he spotted what shape the white formed against the black… a radiation symbol.

"Oh, Ben…" Adrian sighed, collaring them both and shooing kitty-Ben off his lap. Where was Avak, he wondered. Those three generally hung round together. He went on a search, following the pair to what seemed to be a box fort and found a semi-longhair cinnamon smoke cat curled up on top of a pile of books and dozing. Stroking the cat's neck made it jump, but the green Siamese kept leaping up in a game of 'catch the fluffy tail'. Identifying the cinnamon as Avak, relieved he had not gotten lost, Adrian managed to slip a label around his neck.

A rather nasal meow from an orange tabby sounded, breaking his reverie, followed by a few headbutts on his leg. The ginger was followed by what had to be the biggest cat in the room, built sturdily as if for cold weather and with a thick chocolate coat with tufts on the ears. Adrian recognised the nasally meow as Gareth, especially after he followed the cat's path and saw the mess made of the nearest clock…

That meant that the brown cat had to be his fiancé, Red. She was not yet a member though she had expressed an interest in joining, and as yet another of these WARG people she had been roped into it by Tash, though there was some ankle-chewing, fish-stealing, and hair-dyeing involved in her introduction. Adrian merely shrugged, remembering her as the red kitten from before, and gave her a ribbon too. His hands came away covered in shed fur and a few nips.

"Speaking of big balls of fluff, hello Miri," he said and he picked up the third bundle of fur in the room, and the second Persian-esque cat. This time the cat was white with random patches of bright, tabbied orange, which as it matched her hair gave her away.

One cat proved very hard to catch, and even more difficult to hang onto. The semi-longhair chocolate bicolour edged further and further away as Adrian approached, hissing with fury, and when he finally managed to grab the cat after a long moment's pause, scratched him on the arm in an attempt to escape. It was hard to check the gender – the cat did not like that one bit – and even harder to tie the ribbon on, as Adrian was almost bitten. This aversion to touch identified the bicolour as Kyle, and he let him go as soon as the knot was secure, kitty-Kyle racing away and leaping over other cats to curl up on a high box and watch everyone, calming down and beginning to purr again soon after.

There were only two pairs left to identify. A second black cat slunk around the edge of the room, shining a rusty Marmite colour in the light, while a small cat in a pretty grey colourpoint ran after it and pounced every so often. The black would often turn to bat the young grey off, but then they would bump heads and continue. The colourpoint was certainly the smallest cat in the room…so therefore the youngest agent…

Adrian walked over and scooped kitty-Inara into his arms. Her tail rose with interest and she meowed, echoed by the rusty-black self now sat at his feet. He wrestled a ribbon round her neck, then crouched down to the cat who had to be Willie, as he and her had been training together for a little while.

The other pair were two tabbies, one blue and one orange though both with white. The orange tabby was chasing a very sorry-looking squad of moving green plastic soldiers…

The Little Plastic Marine Corps shouted their rather tinny thanks to the Librarian as they made a dash for the nearest under-the-door exit after Adrian picked Jared up. He squirmed, wanting to get down; Chloe, the blue tabby, decided to join the fun and leap onto his lap also. He managed to get them both collared, though he had a sinking feeling that he had muddled up their names and was unable to catch either of them to check.

Oh well. So that was every cat named, apart from himself. He made himself one and looped it around the base of his tail. Interestingly he noted that the British and American agents could be told apart simply by their cat body shapes. The Brits had very dense, plush coats, round and widely-set eyes, and sturdy, almost cobby bodies. The Yanks were slightly leaner, tails more pointed and smooth and eyes with much sharper features. The only ones who were unlike either of these were Lily and Cristoph, who were both the slender and narrow-eyed of the Oriental cat; Avak, who was somewhere in between; and Aster, Miriku and Red being bundles of fluff hiding their shape beneath. Robert had taken on a similar shape to the British cats, and Adrian guessed it was because of the historical parallels of his homeland.

He turned into a cat himself, and jumped off his chair to mingle.

OoO

"Here kitty! Here kitty! Go chase the ball!"

At last, Adrian had allowed Emily a break from trying to fix the Anthropomorphiser, and had taken over himself, letting the young girl mind the cats to her heart's content. The machine, still broken but still on at the same time, had been moved to a space in the hall, and Adrian prodded the machinery from beneath while lying on a wheeled board for ease of access. It was being a stubborn thing, refusing to respond much to either of their skills.

Emily threw a bouncy ball over the cats' heads, and several leapt up for it at once. A few, like kitty-Lily and kitty-Claire, had learned that more excitement could be had if they returned the ball to be thrown again, adding to the fun of the game. Several cats had gathered around her, either joining in or curling up next to her and nuzzling close. Most of the other cats basked on cushions or high places and watched lazily.

The soundtrack from The Aristocats was playing in the background, with kitty-Phoenixia glaring at the hi-fi and trying (and failing) to bat the buttons enough to change the sound. Every attempt she made saw her furry coat change to a new pattern each time. She only succeeded in turning the volume up and hitting the 'Repeat' button to make Ev'rybody Wants To Be A Cat play over and over again. Eventually, she did the butt-waggle-jump and leapt to the top of the music player, changing to a lilac lynx point and curling up to purr.

Beneath the machine, Adrian sighed, and not only because the song was beginning to get on his nerves. His knowledge of the very intricate and difficult machine was lacking, having had no hand in its planning or prototyping. He wished a techie was around, but the resident mechanic was currently a ginger tabby and Charis and Pete had gone on holiday somewhere. But he was learning slowly about the machine, interested in finding that it only controlled selection of the wanted species; any colour and pattern combination that resulted came from the individual's genes, and nothing else. He was relieved that there had been a single failsafe built in; that the person who pressed the big green button was spared from being affected by the shapeshifting rays, explaining why Emily hadn't noticed her mistake…he was thankful that he had her to help, though, and she had made some good progress.

No, his major annoyance at the present moment came in the form of a little grey colourpoint…kitty-Inara was determined to chomp on his tail, and every time he would try and move it out of the way she would follow.

Before long Emily was to be found flat on her back, her arms and legs spread-eagled, with at least four cats draped over each limb. Kitty-Aster was curled up on her chest and purring like a lawnmower, enjoying the rise-and-fall movement. Kitty-Harriet lay on Emily's hair and was licking her forehead like a mother cat to her kitten.

The young girl had been giggling, the bouncy ball long forgotten, which initiated almost every cat to purr in response. "Adriaaaaan!" she wailed eventually through her laughter.

"Mmm?" he replied from underneath the machine.

"Heeelp?"

"Why's that then?" He could not keep the mirth from his voice.

"The cats won't move! Hati's licking my face!"

"That's nice, dear!"

"Awww…"

There was then a 'click!' and Emily managed to twist her head enough to see the Librarian with a camera. She gasped indignantly; he just cackled and took some more.

"Please help?"

"All right," he chortled, bending down to shoo the cats off her arms and let Emily sit up and shuffle to the nearest wall so they couldn't lie on her and knock her over again. The cats, becoming lazier by the moment, simply rolled off when nudged and lay close to the warm friendly Emily, or sat on one of the closest bookshelves, all continuing the chorus of purring. The large Norwegian Forest Cat that was Red clambered into Emily's lap like a queen, her large brush-like tail seeing off all others who wanted that prestigious position. Emily found a soft-bristled brush, and began gently sweeping it from head to tail tip.

"I was thinking, she piped up eventually, "if this is how powerful the Anthropomorphiser is, as well as helping us for missions, maybe we could really use it as a weapon?"

"A weapon?" he replied, peering out from under the machine. There was a smudge of dirt on his nose.

"Yeah. Turn 'em all in'ta cats instead."

Adrian snorted with amusement, his face creasing up as he suddenly had images of a very pissed-off black cat with emerald eyes. "Oh dear, Emily…"

"Maybe we could distract them with tuna!" she chirped with a silly grin on her face. "Or maybe tuna laced with dynamite!"

Adrian facepalmed. These kids and their imaginations…

Then a wisp of chocolate-coloured fur drifted past and ticked his nose, causing him to sneeze and carefully-balanced part of the machine's interior to dislodge. He only just caught himself from swearing. He glanced over, seeing that the entire floor now had a new carpet of the stuff.

"You had to go and brush Red, didn't you?"

OoO

Adrian had already sent word to the many missions which were currently extant, telling them to hole up in a safe place, or rent a hotel room, until the issue was sorted. The first call back to the Library had come from Stephen, and Adrian answered with a cat in his arms, a couple of others curled up on the desk.

"Hey, what's going on? Everything here's sorted, Sue and all," he said through the screen in the Monitor Room. The Sue in question could be seen in the background, tied to a chair.

"That's good news. No, it's probably best you stay there for a while; I'll call you when it's safe to return," replied Adrian.

Stephen's voice turned urgent. "What's happened?"

"Nothing dangerous per se, just an annoyance…"

"Ohh…" Stephen had spotted the calico prowling Adrian's lap. "Did Rhia bring her cats into the Library again?"

"Stephen…" Adrian scooped up the cat and held her in the air. "This IS Rhia."

There was a moment of pause as he digested the news, and tried not to burst out laughing. "Seriously? Oh man, that's awesome."

"Heh. Yeah, it was a machine that malfunctioned in the tech labs. Thing is the machine's area effect is still very active – we're trying to fix it, but the pull for me to be a cat is very strong – " and at that moment, Adrian lost his hold and turned into a white cat, whom the calico leapt upon before jumping to the floor. The white cat sighed and turned back, shaking his head to Stephen's laughter. "See what I mean? Trust me, it's best you stay out there for the moment."

"All right, will do. Take pictures!"

OoO

"Meeooooww!"

"Mmrrroooww!

"Uhhh Adrian?"

"Meeoww…"

"What?"

"I think the cats are hungry…"

"All right, hold on…"

Adrian followed Emily away from the cats, of at least half were yowling for attention. By some miracle they managed to get into the kitchen without any of them entering too.

"Thank God we don't have Tyler around, I think he'd be trying to eat everything in the room by now…" He went to clean the oil and dirt off his hands, and Emily looked around for cat food. This was Kitchen One, which was much more now the generic pantry than anything else; Kitchen Two was Rhia's kitchen, where most people went to and at least three times bigger than this; Kitchen Three was the place of dusty and mouldy horror that nobody dared to enter. There was apparently a Kitchen Four somewhere, but that was more a Medieval roasting pit than anything else and hadn't been seen by the Society at all.

"What are we going to give the cats?" asked Emily, searching the cupboards.

"Protein, preferably," he said, drying his hands and joining the search. "Cats aren't like dogs, being able to eat anything, Emily; they're what's known as 'obligate carnivores'. They have to eat meat or similar."

"Robert mentioned to me once that he gave cats scrambled egg?" she said, pulling out a quarter-empty box of twenty-four eggs.

Adrian smirked. "He was brought up on a farm where they have a large colony of mousers. That's what you'd feed a sick cat or an elder kitten. This lot need something more substantial."

"Aha!" said Emily, finding what she'd been looking for and pulling out the huge sack of kibble. "I knew Rhia had left some of this here…"

She hauled it out and dumped it next to the table. She then scooped out a handful of the dry cat food, and placed it on a plate. Adrian eyed it with a sudden sense of suspicion.

"Will this do?"

"Um…"

"Try it."

"You try it."

"Nuh-uh. I'm not a cat."

"Aww…"

Adrian vanished and was replaced by the white self, the ribbon on his tail beginning to slip off. Emily seized it, and him, and wrestled the ribbon around his neck loosely. He wriggled, but settled down in front of the plate.

Slowly he sniffed the dry food. He recoiled.

"Go on, kitty…" she said, stroking the top of his head.

He pawed one piece out, and after a long hesitation, ate it.

"Well?"

The cat let out a squeak, and leapt off the table as if he had been electrocuted. There was a retching sound, and the table shuddered with a 'boink' from below as Adrian transformed back and hit his head on the underside. He crawled out, stood up, and tripped over a chair.

"Bleecchh! Eee-yuk!"

"No good then?"

He dived for the sink. "That stuff… tastes like barf, and soap, and mouldy fishskins, and gone-off custard…" He lifted from the tap, the lower half of his face dripping. "It's better used as a weapon than food!"

Emily was howling with laughter. "Okay, that's a no."

"Tuna. No cat knows how to refuse tuna."

Emily raised an eyebrow. "I only saw three tins in the cupboard," she said, retrieving them.

"Hmm. We might need to dig around in the freezer and cook some…"

"But what?"

"I think I have a plan," he said, pulling a few frying pans from yet another cupboard. "Go and fetch the two fussiest Agents, would you?"

Emily ventured down the corridors, spotting cats here and there curled up on bookshelves. Several had found one of the desks Adrian worked at and had made a nice home on top of his paperwork. Most of them, however, had remained in the room with the cushions and boxes. Most of them were also napping.

She tiptoed around the cats, some of whom half-woke enough to headbutt her foot or wrap a tail around her
ankle. She reached the large floor cushion where three cats slept, and took in the cute scene. Kitty-Louise was curled into a tight ball, nestled in one corner; kitty-Alice sprawled out on the dark starry fabric, with kitty-Robert snuggled up against her with one paw over her protectively.

Emily pulled out her camera and snapped a picture, before bending down and tickling the silver tabby. She woke up, disturbing kitty-Robert with her; Emily slid her arm under the cat and picked her up. Kitty-Robert sat up and meowed plaintively.

Kitty-Valerie lay comfortably on her side in a box, purring softly. Emily clucked at her from above, and she woke and rolled onto her back.

"Come on kitty," she said gently, watching the lightly-striped tail lift as the cat sprang gracefully out of the box. Kitty-Alice scrabbled in Emily's arms, slid free and jumped upon the ticked tabby; the two tussled for a moment, but purred and bumped heads.

Emily giggled, taking more pictures. She then withdrew a toy mouse on a string from her pocket, and dangled it in front of the two before running out the door. The two cats followed excitedly, and then the smell of food attracted them further. It was a miracle that none of the others followed, but Emily did hear a few meows and scratches from behind her.

The cats and the young girl entered the kitchen, and Adrian had prepared by placing several covered plates on the table. "Got them?" he asked. "Good. Sit them on the table, would you? It's time to test a few things."

Emily placed kitty-Alice, then kitty-Valerie on the table, and they sniffed some of the closest plates curiously.

The two that were still human grinned at each other, and presented the two fusspots with the first plates. On each was a small handful of kibble.

The effect was immediate. Neither cat would go near it; kitty-Valerie actually leapt off, and kitty-Alice hissed and batted both plates off the table before following.

A few moments had to be spent to catch both tabbies and to clean up the smashed china with a dustpan and brush. They then presented the second plates to the two cats: both contained a little tuna.

And of course, being fussy, both of them were struggling with their new cat instincts. Kitty-Valerie shrank away, but kitty-Alice sniffed around it and crouched down low.

"God, they're fussy," said Emily, before she realised she was talking to no-one in particular.

Adrian had vanished again, and the white cat padded across the table, eyes fixed intently on the lovely fish. The two girls looked at him, twitching lightly as if they wanted to defend their food; but they allowed him to steal a chunk before he jumped off the table.

"Hungry?" quipped Emily.

"Mmph. Sorry," he said with his mouth full.

"So the three cans will be empty pretty soon. Next?"

The third plates contained a small amount of white fish, lightly cooked. Kitty-Alice sniffed, licked, and ate a little chunk warily, before finishing it off. Kitty-Valerie, still fighting the cat instincts, only managed to get to the licking stage before she backed off. Emily ticked the back of her neck.

"Fair enough," said Adrian. "That's another good one. Just means a lot of light frying and tinfoil…we have to feed all the cats at the same time, so I'll need your help, Ems."

"Okay," she replied. "What about the last plates?"

"The control…" he said, lifting the lids and presenting the small amount of steaming chicken fillet to the two cats, who snapped them up quite happily.

The mission to get the cats fed was quite something, sourcing out almost every bit of chicken and fish in the fridge, the freezer and in other cold stores in the entire Library, cooking it gently and briefly and using one of those big wheeled multi-level portable trays to stack the numerous plates on.

As Adrian returned from another foray into a secret freezer, he passed the door to the basement. A muffled yowl distracted him, and pressing his ear to the locked door he could hear the mews and scratches of the Sues below. He sighed, having forgotten the Anthropomorphiser would have affected them too, and the steel cross-barred walls had grid holes big enough for a cat to jump through and escape their cells. Not that he blamed them, really, with the situation. He mentally counted how many were down there and added the number to how many more chunks of food he needed to warm up. He'd bring them dinner later.

Wheeling the full trays into the room with the cats stirred most of them into a loud frenzy. The pair worked quickly, hovering each plate over a cat who always moved beneath it when they tried to set it down, so quickly they learnt to dodge the plate to the side and slip it onto the floor. They had made sure there was plenty for all; the tuna was almost fought over but vanished before it got to scratches. The sound of quiet little 'chomp-chomp-chomps' replaced the loud meowing.

Adrian piled the last of the plates on a tray and began to head off to the basement. "Ems, get yourself something to eat too, then get back to that machine… 'kay?"

She sighed. "All right…"

When she returned with her sandwiches, the cats had eaten their fill and had dozed off again quite contentedly. All that is except for kitty-Louise, who was going round every single plate on the floor and hoovering up every leftover there might be, and licking them all clean afterwards.

"Silly kitty," said Emily, sitting on a chair to watch.

OoO

It all started so suddenly.

Emily had been underneath the machine, having finally stopped the transforming ray that for half an hour had stopped even Adrian from keeping a human form for more than ten seconds. She swore she was on the verge of getting the thing fixed…

But then, the happy meows had turned – almost in a single moment – to annoyed hisses and yowls. Then there was an almighty 'THUMP' as something collided with the side of the machine.

"Eeek!" Emily squeaked, scrabbling to roll out from under the machine, and ending up in the middle of a fight.

A large bunch of no less than five cats were facing off in the centre of the room. With a ferocious whack, the orange tabby scored a hit on a black self's nose and sent him spinning into the corner, before facing the other four and growling with his back arched. The wild tabby met his challenge.

Emily gasped, recognising the dazed cat as Willie… the brown tabby as Michael and the ginger as Gareth…

Kitty-Willie stood up, shook himself off, and jumped to stand in front of kitty-Inara. Kitty-Robert had already been ejected from the battle – which now was seeing two tabbies tussling with each other – with a bloody score mark down his nose, and had limped back over to the two girls on the floor cushion.

Emily dodged the main group, leapt over a black-and-white and a cinnamon smoke having a face-off, and went to shriek for Adrian.

"Emily? What's happened? Is the roof on fire? What?"

"They're fighting – "

And at that moment, kitty-Avak barrelled into Adrian's shins, and used his legs as a ladder. Kitty-Ben slunk away to a dark corner, that battle having ended in stalemate.

Adrian blinked in shock for just a moment. "Oh b – " he nearly swore. He struggled to remember which of the girls may have been that-time-of-the-month grouchy the day before. "They're all intact males aren't they! They're fighting over what they see as theirs…"

"But – they're not – ?"

"Two levels above being animal…we've got to stop this now!" Thrusting the cat into Emily's arms, Adrian transformed and plunged into the room himself.

He almost wished Val's team weren't busy at the time, as she was making a good attempt to break up the fighting, but to little avail. He noted three singletons, the Van pattern that was Dave and the blue ticked that was Tom, join kitty-Kyle up high on the bookshelves safe from the tussle below. He marched straight to the fight and hissed enough to swing their attention onto him… but this was a bad idea, for as he glanced round, he saw no less than four girl cats in his wake…

The white self vanished under a mess of black selfs, the ferocious orange tabby that was Gareth, a ginger-and-white and the boisterous wild tabby. But Emily returned just at that moment with a smaller version of her Supersoaker, filled with nothing but cold water; the first squirt caught kitty-Gareth full in the face, and he rolled backwards to be caught by the chocolate Red.

"Adrian!"

He transformed back, sporting several nasty scratches down his cheeks. "Ow… ow."

"You okay?"

"Fine. Good idea. We need to separate that fight, and I know how," he said, scooping up kitty-Rhia and holding her out of reach. The cats had already scattered at a large human suddenly appearing beneath them, but now the slim black kitty-Cristoph yowled and bounded forwards – only for Adrian to run to a room, dump the calico on a chair, make sure the cat had followed and pull the door to.

Emily caught on quick, picking up a random girl and lobbing them into a room like bait. Sometimes it failed, but most of the time the man whose cat mind demanded possession ran in after their female – or females; in several cases a cat sought to defend more than one girl, and would not go in unless their other was found, including kitty-Robert (with both Alice and Louise) and kitty-Michael (Claire and Miri). But most proudly, or most embarrassingly of all, was Adrian's 'harem' of four – Aster, Tash, Valerie and Phoenixia. They let those four remain in the hall with the three singletons. The doors were open enough to allow egress once they had all calmed down.

And at the thought of calming down, Adrian sank onto the starry floor cushion. The carpet of Red fur floated around the place and covered every surface. "Urrfff…I feel like Alice has been glomping me non-stop for an hour…"

"I can get you a drink?" said Emily, smiling.

"Oh you're a sweetheart. That'd be lovely…"

He caught her intention just a second too late, as she pumped the last of her Supersoaker water onto his face and ran off, cackling.

OoO

"Library? Library, come in."

Static.

"Bugger…" mumbled Ingrid to herself, before trying again. "Library?"

Her line was picked up at last, and she took in a deep breath to share her report, until she noticed the Monitor Room was empty.

Mental alarm bells started going off.

"Library! Anyone! I – "

She cut off as she noticed something strange. There at the bottom of the screen was a waving fluffy tail, silver with black stripes and a white tip…

"Hello?"

A slightly higher-pitched voice caught the attention of the owner of that tail, and suddenly, making Ingrid jump, a cat leapt up and pressed both front paws onto the screen.

Ingrid's mouth fell open as the silver tabby filled her communicator's screen. "Uh – the f…?"

"Meow!" Pleased by the noise, the cat continued pawing the screen. There were beeps and clicks from below as she stepped on the controls.

"Uhhh… hello, kitty," said Ingrid. The cat meowed in response, licking the screen where she could see Ingrid's nose. Ingrid smiled despite herself. "Here kitty kitty kitty, now what's going on?"

The tabby's head turned, ears twitching towards different sounds, and Ingrid caught sight of the name written on the ribbon round the cat's neck.

"Alice?"

Kitty-Alice glanced back to the screen at the sound of her name, pawing at the friendly shape she could see. "Miow?"

Ingrid could see more cats in the room beyond…

And then, just as Adrian burst through the doors – kitty-Alice stepped on controls enough to cut the feed all together.

"Oh bollocks!" Adrian cursed. He went over to the control panel, shooing the tabby off – not that she got very far, sliding into the nearest chair – and tried to get the feed back, but Ingrid tried a different tactic and sent a text message instead, updating him on her current progress. He sent a reply, reaffirming his warning to not return yet. He then turned, and scooped kitty-Alice into his arms.

"Right you, you've volunteered to be our guinea-pig," he said, carrying the silver tabby out of the Monitor Room.

Adrian met up with Emily back in the tech labs, where she was finally reattaching the control panel to the Anthropomorphiser. She smiled at him – he reciprocated the gesture, understanding that despite her overconfident mistake this morning, she had mostly been a great help to him in fixing the problem – and he approached, setting Alice down on a table.

"I think it's fixed! Should we test it now? Should I turn on the Change-back mode?"

"Emily, we can't just turn on the area-effect…"

"Oh, why?"

"Because…" Adrian nudged a pile of clothes on the floor with his foot. "…if you haven't noticed, Shapeshifter Baggage is ignored below Anthropomorphic level fifty-five. If we turn them all back in one fell swoop, they're all going to be stark naked, and they're not going to forgive me for it!"

"They're not going to forgive you anyway for having to look at their balls!"

Emily watched Adrian's mind change gear without the clutch and stall.

"Baaaaww… EMILY!"

"What?" she grinned, enjoying the nice shade of puce that his face was going. "S'true!"

"That's not – I had to – You shouldn't – you shouldn't know things like that, young lady!"

"You give me too little credit. I'm insulted." She crossed her arms and turned away, but her giggles let him know she wasn't serious.

"All right…" he sighed, going to tap the controls of the Anthropomorphiser and turning a dial to a low setting. "We're going to do it individually, starting with this one."

Kitty-Alice padded over and Emily tickled her white belly, the cat rolling over on the worktop. "Why not Tash?"

"Ummm." The blush returned to his cheeks.

"It is safe, yannow!"

"I think she'd, um, prefer it if we change her back elsewhere."

Emily grinned at him, but scooped up the tabby and set her on the floor. Adrian threw a couple of large blankets over the cat, then nodded to Emily and dodged out of the way.

At the thump of a big green button, a pink and yellow ray emanated from a slot in the side of the machine and hit the struggling bundle on the floor. For a moment nothing happened; but then there was a very human yelp and the small bundle became a large one.

"Yes!"

"It works!"

There was a muffled 'eek!" from within the blankets, and Alice's head popped out. She was holding the rest of the blankets tightly around her.

"Alice!" said Adrian. "Long story. Are you all right?"

"I'm naked!" she blurted. "I was a cat!"

"You remember? That's interesting. Look – uhh…"

Alice regained her senses a little more, glancing up at the two around her and her situation. She eased up to her feet, clutching her blankets to save her dignity. "I feel fine. Whoa, everything looks different…" Becoming slightly dizzy, she stumbled, and Adrian caught her.

"Careful." He sat her down on a bench. As Alice watched, Adrian showed her what they were doing by picking up the next nearest cat, the wild-colour tabby, and soon had the second cat under a jumble of blankets. Alice's eyes bugged as they turned on the ray again, and proved the machine had been fixed as a very red-faced Michael emerged from his bundle.

"Err…?"

"Michael? How're you doing?" Adrian asked.

"I… I feel fine, mostly… why am I starkers?"

"Sorry about that, but…" Adrian explained swiftly.

Alice and Michael glanced at each other, small embarrassed grins coming to their faces as they heard the story.

"If you two run and get dressed, we could use your help in turning back everyone else…"

"But why were we cats in the first place?" Alice asked.

Adrian glanced pointedly to Emily, and Alice and Michael's gazes followed…

"HEY!"

OoOoOoOoO

Some hours later, most of the agents who had been cats not too long ago had gathered in the Mod Sofa Lounge. The set of modular blue sofas had been rearranged at least twice, suiting the current conversation groups. Many were debating the events of the day, or giggling over what they could remember. Others had decided it was time for tea and had made sandwiches. Some were simply relaxing, bathing in the ambient light-heartedness.

Those who had missed the 'fun' had returned the moment Adrian had sent the all-clear, somewhat disappointed that they had missed all the bundles of fluff.

There was an exchange of Litwicks going on in one corner; the numbers of the little candle Pokémon had ballooned over the past few weeks, and Alice was happy to give her surplus to others who thought they were adorable. Inara, who had otherwise been devouring an entire bowl of fruit to forget the knowledge that her cat self had happily eaten a fish earlier in the day, squeaked when hers was placed in her hands; he cocked his head on one side and made immediately for Inara's sleeve, purple flame and all. Tash had two, one perched happily on her head. Louise was examining hers, and happy with her, placed her on the back of her chunk of sofa. Asuka glared closely at one set on the floor, not entirely sure what to make of the small creature.

Everyone stopped, however when Adrian opened the door to the Mod Sofa Lounge and let a young cat out.

Slinking round his legs, she sniffed her surroundings, her thin feathered tail lifting with interest, before padding lightly into the room. All eyes in the room, paused in mid-conversation, were upon her.

"Hey, look who's here!" cheered Harriet, kneeling with her arms outstretched. The kitten, recognising her, scurried towards her happily and was scooped up.

"Who on earth…?" began Louise, baffled. Her Litwick cheeped behind her. They had all been turned back to human for several hours now; the Anthropomorphiser had been fixed, surely?

The cat, with the appearance and playfulness of a yearling kitten, was a truly beautiful creature; a silver torbie point Balinese, or a longhair Siamese cat. She had stripes of black and silver with orange patches clear on her face, tail and legs, all fading to a pale ivory over the rest of her body. She gave a sweet little meow, high and melodious, wriggled out of Harriet's arms and leapt over to Louise, nuzzling round and round her legs. Almost instinctively, she bent down and stroked the cat's neck.

"Is this… Emily?"

"Yes, it is," said Tash. "Ain't she gorgeous?"

"How… what… what? Why is she a cat?"

"We've turned her into one for the day."

Louise's hand froze. "What?"

"This is discipline!" said Harriet, pointing into the air. "She has to learn that there are consequences to her actions, and that playing with the machines in the tech labs even if she's certain about them could be extremely dangerous. So for today and tonight, same length of time we had, she's gonna be a cat."

"But – you can't just go turning her into things!"

"This isn't Harry Potter, Lou," said Alice, clucking to the cat with a mousey-on-a-stick. Kitty-Emily seemed to have springs built into her legs, bounding over and furiously attempting to bat at the toy.

"She's just a child!"

"Oh Lou, this isn't anything bad, surely?" said Tash, attempting to explain. Kitty-Emily snagged the mouse and rolled around on the floor with it. "She's twelve years old, and we can't let her go fiddling with stuff willy-nilly and to hell with the consequences. She may be brilliant with our machines but her overconfidence in being able to fix anything could have been dangerous, so we need tempering there. It's just a small lesson, like what you have to do with kids to tell them where they've gone wrong."

"Yeah," said Alice, "remember my car crash last year served to make me a much more cautious driver, Lou?"

Kitty-Emily wove her way past the few hands which were petting her and returned to Louise, looking plaintively up at her and her meow the only sound in the room. Slowly her hand reached to the kitten's neck and tickled, her head moving into the touch. At a nudge, kitty-Emily leapt into Louise's lap and snuggled down, beginning to purr.

"It's okay, little one," she murmured.

"Lou… she seems to be enjoying your lap… we had to do something, otherwise she won't have learned. I was half-expecting her to ask me to use the Anthropomorphiser on her anyway," said Adrian.

"I'm just saying that there are other ways to discipline a child… I don't like it. Find a more orthodox way next time, guys."

Kitty-Emily yawned, wriggled, and settled down for a nap.