by Larry Niven
“How did they do that? They have no smelters.”
“Haven’t they? Hunt Master took it for granted they have them somewhere.”
“We’re talking high-temperature metallurgy here, not a few molds in a charcoal fire to make bronze or something—though even that would be significant enough.”
“Maybe the Jotoki made it,” said Perpetua. “They had high technology. Their gravity motors got as close to the light-barrier as one can get without the hyperdrive shunt.” Ginger knotted his ears down in a gesture of puzzlement.
“You’ve got to train Jotoki young, practically from the time they’re tadpoles. Feral Jotoki are feral forever. But human or Jotoki, if they had smelters, even primitive ones, kzinti satellites would detect the smoke plumes—for that matter, since practically all kzinti satellites have military capabilities and military sense enhancers, the heat sources would stick out like the Patriarch’s testicles after a battle!”
“You’re a kzin. You’re allowed to say that?”
“It implies no disrespect, quite the reverse. But setting our cultural differences aside, I have the idea reinforced that these particular monkeys have more to them than meets the eye.”
“Did you get any idea how many there are?”
“Hunt Master says there are different troops, and he doesn’t know how far south their territory extends. I doubt he’s got the means to count them.”
“Would someone lend him a satellite?”
“If they were a major threat the high-tech response would be quick enough. As it is, who cares?”
“Could the monkey lands reach the equator? Maybe even into the southern hemisphere?”
“I doubt it. Near the equator it’s too hot. The seas nearly boil. But they might extend a long way toward it. You monkeys are adaptable and sometimes tougher than you look.”
“This whole situation could pose us problems. We’ve got the bullion to buy individual unrepatriated slaves from individual owners and the ship to get them home. But this sounds like a much bigger business. It’ll mean putting repatriation on an industrial basis.”
The autodoc beeped. Colored blocks appeared on its screen.
“Human DNA,” said Perpetua. “So these are runaway slaves, not a native species. In fact, I’m taking it closer…now this is odd, very odd.”
“What?”
“Look at that profile. What was the principal source of human slaves?”
“Wunderland, of course. They were shipping them out in herds—sorry; wholesale—during the occupation. Very few from other planets. There aren’t many prisoners from space battles.”
“Exactly. And Wunderland was settled by a North European consortium with a few Japanese and South Africans. Of course the whole human race was getting pretty mixed up by that time, and racial profiling can be misleading in any case. But Wunderland DNA tends to be recognizable, simply as coming from a particular melting pot. Here, though, according to the templates a lot of this DNA profile is far less variegated. As if it’s from a population that’s been separate much longer than Wunderland. And I see Southern European—Iberian, Italian, a bit of North African; plus either Irish or very old Scots. And a surprisingly strong presence of something that the library shows looks close to old Welsh, but not quite.
“Certainly there are Celts and some Anglo-Saxons on Wunderland, but the rest are minority groups; and I doubt you’d ever find a DNA profile like this anywhere there. I’ve tested the fresh meat and the old bones—which are from several different individuals—and they’re all about the same. This is a homogenous population, and it’s significantly different from Wunderland’s.”
“They are not from Wunderland?”
“Impossible. There’s no Goth strain at all. Even the isolated, backwoods communities there are descended from people who came in the original slowboats, and the only colonists with no Goth ancestry were Japanese—which isn’t even hinted here.”
“What about the slowboat that disappeared?”
Perpetua shook her head. “Lost Travelers’ Day hasn’t been observed rigorously since before the First War, but it’s still marked on calendars—on the anniversary of the day Wunderland’s telescopes saw the Evita Peron blow up.”
“What if that was faked?”
“Its colonists were descendants of North European refugees. There’d be Goth.”
“Oh. And what of the Jotoki?”
“The Jotoki do seem to be the same kind as on Wunderland, but you did say you find the same on practically every kzinti world.”
“Urrr…This helmet,” said Ginger. “You say there’s something else about it?”
“Yes. Connect your notebook up to the ship’s library. I want to ask it some questions.”
“What do you think that helmet is?”
“I need to check our encyclopedia, but—” she called up a picture “—you see the attachment for a crest, the cheek guards, the lobster tail at the back?”
“Lobster! Don’t torture me, you tree-swinging sadist! Where will we get lobsters on this damned world!”
“Not a real lobster, you stomach-ruled furball! See the armor of overlapping plates that protects the back of the neck?”
“Yes.”
“We had to relearn military history when your ancestors jumped on us.” She stabbed with one finger at the picture on the screen. “Do you see?”
“There is a resemblance, I agree…‘Roman’?…‘Ancient Roman’?”
“What do you think we should do, Ginger?”
“Explore further.”
“How easy will that be?”
“I’ve already paid Hunt Master to let me make a private expedition. I don’t know that he actually had the power to permit or prevent me—it’s up to Warrgh-Churrg while we’re on his land—but it’s as well to keep on Hunt Master’s good side.”
“I know it’s an insulting question, and forgive me, but isn’t that dangerous?”
“They would call me—to put it politely—a strange kind of kzin if they knew all about me, but I am a kzin for all that, Perpetua. Danger doesn’t enter into it. For that matter I’m looking forward to the hunt. You’ll never breed that reflex out of us!”
“I’m not one who would want to. I’ve got to admit life on Wunderland would be duller if some of you furballs hadn’t joined us and kept some of your little ways. But, it’s partly my own fear I speak from. I don’t want you dead on the end of a kz’zeerekti spear. Who wishes a friend to face danger alone?”
“Cheer up! Naturally I shall take my tame monkey with me, as bait and interpreter. I won’t be facing it alone!”
“Thanks, furball!”
“Quiet your trembling heart, tree-swinger! This time we will be taking full body armor, sense enhancers and modern weapons. Even Hunt Master could hardly call me a coward for that, venturing deep into kz’zeerekti territory with only my own ape in tow! And we’ll be flying, not walking.”
“And as another ape once said, ‘This is another fine mess you’ve gotten us into!’ I’d be better off going in alone.”
“Hunt Master would never stand for it. Nor would Warrgh-Churrg. If he found out, I’d probably be dueled for letting a monkey go loose without permission; and you’d find a very hungry reception committee when and if you returned.”
“You won’t tell Warrgh-Churrg you’re going?”
“I think that is probably not necessary. We’ll make it a quick look in and out.”
“Won’t he be offended?”
“Hard to see exactly why he should be. He’s not the only landowner and the kz’zeerekti lands are unoccupied. And I did pay him gold for the hire of the car.
“Anyway, you can learn some of the language. I had Hunt Master teach me all the local kz’zeerekti words he’s picked up, and you’ll be learning them tonight.”
“What’s their word for ‘sword’?”
Ginger’s vocal cords did something difficult. Without microsurgery in his youth it would have been impossible.
“Gladius,” said Perpetua. “The Latin hasn’t changed much. It’s a useful language, though the numeration system is hopeless. It should be possible for us to improve on Hunt Master’s vocabulary.”
“You recognize it?”
“An old Earth language. English and Wunderlander are full of traces of it. You said that Hunt Master called one by a name?” Perpetua found herself suddenly a little shy of saying such a thing to a kzin. But another feeling was stronger than embarrassment.
“Yes, Marrrkusarrg-tuss.”
“Could it have been ‘Marcus Augustus’?”
“I suppose so.” He passed her a disk and sleeper’s headset, standard equipment for absorbing a new language quickly. “But here’s the dictionary. Learn.”
“Thanks. And you’d better do the same. But I do know some of the words already…I wonder what could have happened?”
V
Their car crossed on low power to the scrub woods on the southern side of the river.
Once out of sight of the kzinti on the northern bank they halted and reconnoitered. The land about seemed still and empty, and they picked no body-heat signatures from large live animals. They waited for a time without result at the scene of the recent fight.
Perpetua changed into the robes which the car’s machine shop had made the previous night, worn over light formfitting body armor. Ginger, this time also in armor with modern sense enhancers, scanned the area ceaselessly. Insects buzzed and the air smelled strongly of recent death close by. The kzinti kits’ bodies they found had been stripped of gear and lacked ears but were otherwise more or less whole. Now in daylight, they saw many bones old and new littering the area, making it look like the kzinti hunting preserve it was. They closed the car’s hatch with relief.
“They haven’t been too mutilated,” said Perpetua.
“No, that would be too much of a provocation. Grounds for a war of extermination.” They flew on over taller trees.
“Look there!” There was a stirring in the vegetation below. A heat sensor began flashing.
“Probably kz’zeerekti. What do you think we should do?”
“Ignore them for the time being. Let them see we’re aware of them but not attacking.”
“We could drop them food. Show them we’re friendly?”
“They’d think it was poisoned. Kzinti aren’t friendly.”
They flew round the vegetation, seeing movement, slow to the kzin’s eyes, fast and fleeting to the human’s. Then the car headed south.
There was no obvious or sudden change in the landscape below, and an hour later they were still flying over green-looking country, quite well-grown with trees, even if these were more widely spread.
“I’m surprised the kzinti haven’t taken this for themselves,” said Perpetua. “It looks fertile enough.”
“I’m not so sure,” said Ginger. “Or rather I’m sure it isn’t. According to the map the coastal hills south of the delta make a rain shadow, and even without them the rainfall would be poor anyway. Those plants that don’t have spiny leaves have shiny ones, and they are keeping them turned edge-on to the sun. I’d say they’ll have every kind of moisture-conservation mechanism you can imagine, and this is a green desert with perhaps an occasional cloudburst. Look there.” He pointed to something Perpetua could barely see. “Dust devils blowing about. Land here and I’d say you’ll find that grass is hard dry spines, growing out of dust. And have you seen any surface water since we left the river?”
“I can’t say I have.”
“Or large animals?”
“No. Blurred signs on the sensor that suggest burrowing life-forms. But the kz’zeerekti live here.”
“The kz’zeerekti aren’t native,” said Ginger. “And, as my species found to our cost, they are the most adaptable creatures known in space. I’d say all the native animals in these parts are small, also highly adapted to moisture-conservation. In fact, they are quite plentiful and I’ve seen a few already, even if you haven’t. But not much meat or sport for kzinti. But in any event, have you seen any kz’zeerekti?
“No. Where are they anyway?”
“Hiding, I suppose. Hills coming up. Notice anything else about those dust devils?”
“Like what?”
“The color.”
“They’re red. So is the soil that I can see.”
“Yes, red and dusty. Filled with iron, I’d guess. This is old country. The mountains are eroded here, though they’re sharp enough further south, where the tectonic plates collided more recently.”
“Is that significant?”
“Perhaps not in terms of our mission. But it does mean the country could be rich in minerals. Especially in the vicinity of the rivers. These are the roots of mountains we are flying over, exposed anticlines and synclines. I can see granite in those outcrops, quartz and limestone. Traces of other minerals, too—jasper, copper, and more than traces of gold. This planet is bigger than Earth but has a much smaller core. I speculate that core formation hasn’t progressed as far, taking fewer heavy elements out of the crust.
“You might have kzinti mines here if the local moons weren’t so mineral-rich,” he went on. “In fact I’d say they have mined it sometime in the past—see those low mounds? They look to me like the spoil of mining dumps, but somebody’s spread them out as if to hide them. I desire that we had our own ship, with its deep-radar.”
They flew on. A cloud of dust below resolved itself into a group of fleeing animals, vaguely caninoid, certainly carnivorous.
“Pack raiders,” said Ginger. “There must be prey for them.”
“And there’s a river,” said Perpetua. “See that line of darker trees?”
“I saw it ten minutes ago. But as we get closer you’ll see its bed is dry sand. Dig in it and you probably will find water eventually. I’d guess that, apart from the aftermath of the occasional cloudburst, the rivers in this country flow underground.”
“There’s a big hole.”
“And there are others—see, they are in a line. I’d say it’s a series of roof collapses in a big cave system. Mines and caves—they probably join up…I would expect more vegetation. It seems to be concentrated around the riverbeds. Perhaps they divert water from outlying areas with underground tunnels, to grow heavier cover?”
“Maybe that’s another reason we don’t see kz’zeerekti. They’d use the cave lines for travel, too.”
“How far would cave lines reach? I suppose that’s like asking: How long is a river? But when you look there are a lot of sinkholes, and they do seem to follow lines. Still, collapsed tunnels would transport water.”
“Yes. And the lines don’t look entirely natural. There are a lot of odd things about this planet.”
“Want to land and investigate?”
“Not yet, thanks! We’d better get the big picture first.”
Ginger crouched forward, ears spreading and knotting, tail rigid. “Let’s get a bit of height well before we reach those hills,” he said after a time. “There’s something about them…”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m getting something from my ziirgrah now. It’s hard to define…but there’s a lot more than one pair of eyes looking at us. They’re in those hills.”
“They can hardly hurt a car like this with bows and arrows.”
“They are an unknown,” said Ginger. “Don’t you think unknown means danger, on a kzinti world to boot? We’re going up.”
“All right. And I have suspicions of my own.” The horizon widened dramatically as the car climbed. Perpetua pointed. “See there!”
“By the Fanged God! Stone walls!”
“And see there! Real mining dumps!”
“Warrgh-Churrg hass been falsse with uss. Why did he not tell uss of thesse thingss? Urrrgh!”
“Careful, Ginger!” The hissing in her companion’s accent was a danger sign to Perpetua. Outright lying between kzinti was a mortal insult, and, unlike some other mortal offenses, such as open taunts and mo
ckery, the worse because it was rare. “If he has been economical with truth, so have we…Calm, my friend.”
“S-sorry. But he must have known. Satellitess would have shown. And these have been here long.”
“There’s no point in hanging about up here. We’ll have to go down,” said Perpetua after they had examined the scene for a while.
“They’ll see it’s a kzinti car.”
“But if a human gets out of it? And a human female should look especially harmless.”
“It’s a risk for you.”
“We’re paid to take risks. Should we take her down slowly? Give them a chance to get out of the way?”
“Or a chance to prepare some really nasty surprise for us?”
“We’ve detected nothing on the instruments. But descending slowly might show we mean no harm.”
“If you were fighting the kzinti on a kzinti planet,” said Ginger, “and you saw a kzinti craft descending, fast or slow, would you think it meant no harm?”
“I take your point. But look at that!”
“A statue! Of a kzin!”
“Not just a kzin. See the length of the fangs?”
“Does that mean anything?”
“It might. The God has such fangs. I don’t understand…Perhaps we could broadcast an audio signal to them,” said Ginger. “Tell them we come in peace. If the translator knows enough of the language yet.”
“I think I know more of the language than the translator.”
The car descended, its bullhorn shouting a message. Perpetua, in a white robe with narrow gold edging, which covered her body armor, alighted. The car rose and remained hovering above her, beyond the reach of primitive weapons. One hand upraised in a peculiar gesture, Perpetua walked toward the dark, rectangular apertures in the stone wall.
At first everything seemed deserted. Then, cautiously, a small group of men appeared. Ginger, watching from above, saw them exchange a complex pattern of arm movements, and, gathered round Perpetua, move back into the structure. He waited. In ancient reflex his fur rose and fell to compensate for the movement of his breathing. Then Perpetua’s face appeared on the communicator.
“Come down,” she said. “Their leaders are here, and I think I’ve convinced them you’re foederati—an ally. They seem prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt for the moment. Bring no weapons but your wtsai. They expect that. Keep your communicator on. Tread carefully. We are being met by none other than Marcus Augustus himself.”
