by Larry Niven
"Yes." Chuft-Captain moved the guide to setting number three. As the gun changed and flowed, he said, "We have found nothing new. Sonics and variable-swords are Common."
"Mutable weapons are not."
"Mutable weapons could not win a war, though they might help. Urrrr. This seems to be a projectile weapon. Have you the small-arms projectiles from the stasis box?"
"Chuft-Captain, I do."
The magazine under the barrel swung out for loading. It took both kinds of projectiles. Chuft-Captain again sighted on the rock, using the newly formed telescopic sight.
His first shot put a nick exactly where he aimed it.
His second, with the second-variety projectile, blew the rock to flying shards. Everybody ducked but ChuftCaptain.
"Should I empty the magazine before moving the guide?"
"Chuft-Captain, I do not think it matters. The bullets should certainly be removed, but the tnuctipun must have known that occasionally they would not be. Will you indulge my curiosity?"
"Since your curiosity is a trained one, I will." Chuft-Captain moved the guide. The projectiles still in the gun popped out through the shifting surface. The artifact became a sphere-with-handle, and then ... a sphere-with-handle. The new sphere was smaller than the neutral setting. It had a rosy hue and a smooth, oily texture unmarred by gunsights or secondary controls.
The trigger button did nothing at all.
"I tire rapidly of these duds."
"Chuft-Captain, there is energy release."
"Very well." Chuft-Captain fired at the puppeteer, using his marksman's instinct in the absence of a gunsight. The puppeteer showed no ill effects.
Neither did the female human.
In momentary irritation Chuft-Captain thought of firing the dud at Telepath, who was standing nearby looking harmless and useless. But nothing would happen; he would only upset Telepath. He moved the guide to the fifth setting.
The artifact writhed, became a short cylinder with an aperture in the nose and two wide, flat metallic projections at the sides. Chuft-Captain's lips drew back from neatly filed feline teeth. This looked promising.
He drew aim on what was left of the target rock- a dark blot on the ice.
The gun slammed back against his hand. Chuft-Captain was whirled half around, trying to keep his feet and fighting the sudden pressure as a fireman fights a fire hose. Releasing the trigger didn't shut off the incandescent stream of plasma gas. Pressing the trigger again did. Chuft-Captain blinked his relief and looked around to assess damages.
He saw a twisting trail of melted ice like the path of an earthworm hooked on LSD. Telepath was screaming into his helmet mike. An ominously diminishing scream. The other Kzinti were carrying him toward the airlock at a dead run. From the trail of thin, icy fog his suit left on the air, the weapon's firestream must have washed across his body, burning holes in nearly heatproof fabric.
The human female was running toward her ship.
A glance told him that the other prisoners were still in the police web. Telepath must have knocked the female spinning out of the force field while trying to escape the firestream. She was plainly visible, running across flat ice.
Chuft-Captain shot her with the stunner, then trudged away to pick her up. He had her back in the web when Flyer and Slaverstudent returned.
Telepath was still alive but in critical shape. They had dumped him in the freeze box for treatment on Kzin.
As for position five on the tnuctip relic:
"It's a rocket motor," said Slaverstudent. "As a short-range weapon it could be useful, but primarily it is a one-Kzin reaction pistol. One-tnuctip, that is. I doubt it would lift one of us against respectable gravity. The flat projections at the sides may be holds for feet. The tnuctipun were small."
"Pity you didn't think of this earlier."
"Chuft-Captain, I acknowledge my failure."
Chuft-Captain dropped it. Privately he too acknowledged a failure: he had not considered the female dangerous. Humans were sentient, male and female both. He would not forget it again.
Position six was a laser. It too was more than a weapon. A telescopic sight ran along the side, and there was a microphone grid at the back. Focus it on the proper target, and you could talk voice-to-voice.
"This will be useful," said Slaverstudent. "We can find the voice and hearing ranges for tnuctipun from this microphone."
"Will that make it a better weapon?"
"Chuft-Captain, it will not."
"Then keep your passion for useless knowledge to yourself." Chuft-Captain moved the guide to the seventh setting.
"Darling?"
Anne-Marie didn't move. The police web held her in a slumped sitting position. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breathing. Her eyes were closed, her face relaxed.
"Nice try," Jason told her.
"She cannot hear you," said Nessus.
"I know she can't hear me."
"Then why-? Never mind. What did that rocket setting look like to you?"
"A rocket."
"Using what fuel source?"
"Is it important?"
"Jason, I know nothing of warfare or of weapons, but my species has been making and using machines for some considerable time. Why did the projectile weapon not include its own projectiles? Why did it throw them away when it changed shape?"
"Oh. Okay, it can't throw away its own mass." Jason thought about that. "You're right. It can't be using its own fuel. Nessus, it's a jet. There was an intake somewhere that nobody noticed. Waitaminute. You couldn't use it in space."
"One would affix a gas cartridge at the intake."
"Oh. Right."
"One could not be sure a given atmosphere would burn. How is the gas heated?"
"A battery in the handle? No, it couldn't put out enough power, not without- But there has to be one. Nessus? The Kzinti could be listening."
"I think it does not matter. The Kzinti will know all about the weapon soon enough. Only the captain can profit from learning more before he turns the weapon over to his superiors."
"Okay. That battery must use total conversion of matter."
"Could you not build a fusion motor small enough to fit into the handle?"
"You're the expert. Could you? Would it give enough power?"
"I do not think so. The handle must contain a wide variety of mechanisms to control the changing of shapes."
They watched the Kzin test out the laser form.
"You could do it direct," said Jason. "Change some of the matter in the reaction gas to energy. It'd give you a terrifically hot exhaust. Nessus, is there any species in known space that has total conversion?"
"None that I have heard of."
"Did the tnuctipun?"
"I would not know."
"Things weren't bad enough. Can you see Kzinti warships armed and powered with total conversion?"
A gloomy silence followed. The Kzinti were watching the weapon change shape. The boss Kzin had not spoken; he may or may not have been listening to their discussions.
Anne-Marie made small protesting sounds. She opened her eyes and tried to sit up. She swore feelingly when she found that the web was holding her in her cramped position.
"Nice try," said Jason.
"Thanks. What happened?" She answered herself, her voice brittle and bitter. "They shot me, of course. What have I missed?"
The seventh setting was a blank, flat-ended cylinder with a small wire grid near the back. No gunsight. It did nothing when Chuft-Captain clicked the trigger button; it did nothing when he held it down, and nothing when he clicked it repeatedly. It had no effect on the target rock, the puppeteer, the humans. Its only effect on Slaverstudent was to make him back warily away, saying, "ChuftCaptain, please, there is an energy discharge."
"A singularly ineffective energy discharge. Take this, Slaverstudent. Make it work. I will wait."
And wait he did, stretched comfortably on the permafrost, his suit holding the cold a safe tenth of an in
ch away. He watched Slaverstudent's nerves fray under the fixity of his stare.
"What have I missed?"
"Not much. We've decided the jet that knocked you down converts matter to energy."
"Is that bad?"
"Very." Jason didn't try to explain. "The sixth setting was a more-or-less conventional message laser."
"The seventh does not work," said Nessus. "This angers the captain. Jason, for the first time I regret never having studied weapons."
"You're a puppeteer. Why should you .. ." Jason let the sentence trail off. There was a thought he wanted to trace down. About the weapon. Not any particular form, but all forms together.
"No sentient mind should turn away from knowledge. Especially no puppeteer. We are not known for our refusal to look at unpleasant truths."
Jason was silent. He was looking at an unpleasant truth. Nessus had said that it didn't matter what the boss Kzin overheard. He was wrong. This was a thing Jason dared not say aloud.
Nessus said, "The Slaver expert wants to go inside with the weapon. He has permission. He is going."
"Why?" asked Anne-Marie.
"There is a microphone grid on the seventh setting. Jason, could a soldier use a hand computer?"
"He-" wasn't a soldier! Jason clamped his teeth on the words. "Probably could," he said.
Presently the Slaver expert returned holding the tnuctipun weapon.
To Jason, the artifact had taken on a final, fatal fascination. If he was right about its former owner, then he could stop worrying about its reaching the Patriarch of Kzin. All he had to do was keep his mouth shut. In minutes he and Anne-Marie and Nessus and the four Kzinti would be dead.
Slaverstudent said, "I was right. The artifact answered me in an unknown speech."
"Then it is another-" signaling device, he had been about to say. But it would have been built to signal tnuctipun, and the tnuctipun had been extinct for ages yet the thing had answered back! Chuft-Captain felt his back arch with the fighting reflex. There were ghost legends among the Kzinti.
"Chuft-Captain, I believe it to be a computer. A hand computer could be very useful to a warrior. It could compute angles for him as he fired explosive projectiles. It-"
"Yes. Can we use it?"
"Not unless we can teach it the Hero's Tongue. It may be too simple to learn."
"Then we pass to setting number eight." Chuft-Captain moved the guide down to the bottom setting.
Again there was no gunsight. Most of the genuine weapons had had gunsights or telescopic sights. ChuftCaptain scowled, but raised the weapon and aimed once again at the distant, shattered rock.
Jason cringed inside his imprisoned skin. Again the weapon was writhing, this time to the final setting.
There were so many things he wanted to say. But he didn't dare. The boss Kzin must not know what was about to happen.
The gun had twisted itself into something very strange.
"That looks familiar," said Nessus. "I have seen something like that at some time."
"Then you're unique," said Anne-Marie.
"I remember. It was one of a series of diagrams on how to turn a sphere inside out in differential topology. Certainly there could be no connection.. ."
The boss Kzin assumed marksman stance. Jason braced for the end. What happened next was not at all what he expected.
Unconsciously he'd been leaning on the police net's force field. Suddenly he was falling, overbalanced. He straightened, not quite sure what had happened. Then he got it. The police net was gone. He slapped Anne-Marie hard on the butt, pointed at the Court Jester, saw her nod. Without waiting to see her start running, he turned and charged at the boss Kzin.
Something brushed by him at high speed. Nessus. Not running away but also charging into battle. I was right, thought Jason. He's gone manic.
Chuft-Captain pushed the trigger button. Nothing happened.
It was really too much. He stood a moment, marshaling words for Slaverstudent. A brand-new kind of weapon, and it wouldn't do anything! Half the settings were duds!
He knew it as he turned: something was wrong. The danger instinct sang in his nerves. He got no other warning. He had not seen the ship lights go out. He heard no sign of pounding clawed feet. The sounds of breathing had become a trifle heavy...
He started to turn, and something hit him in the side.
It felt as though an armored knight had run him through with a blunt lance. It hurt. Chuft-Captain lost all his aplomb and all his air, bent sideways as far as he could manage, and toppled.
He saw the world turned sideways, glowing through a blue fog. He saw the human female struggling futilely in Slaverstudent's hands; he saw Flyer aiming a stunner across the ice. He saw two running figures, human and puppeteer, trying to reach the other ship. Flyer's stunner didn't seem to affect them. The human had the tnuctip artifact.
He could breathe again, in sharp, shallow gasps. That blow in the side must have broken ribs; it could hardly have failed to, since Kzinti ribs run all the way down. That blow had felt like a puppeteer's kick! But that was ridiculous. Impossible. A puppeteer kick a Kzin?
The puppeteer reached the ship far in advance of the slower human. He paused a moment, then turned and ran on across the white undulating plain. The human also paused at the ship's entrance, then followed the puppeteer. Flyer was running after them.
Behind Chuft-Captain the ship lights were dim, but brightening. Hadn't they been dark when he fell? And the stunners hadn't worked. And the police webs...
So. The eighth setting was an energy absorber. Not a new thing, but much smaller than anything he'd heard of.
But what had hit him?
There was a hissing in his ears, a sound he hadn't noticed. Not breathing. Had somebody's suit been punctured? But nobody had been attacked. Except--
Chuft-Captain slapped a hand over his side. He yelled with the pain of motion but kept his hand pressed tight while he reached for a meteor patch. He risked one look under his hand before applying the patch. There were four tiny holes in the fabric. They might easily have marked the claws of a puppeteer's space boot.
The boss Kizn held his marksman's stance. Jason was moving toward him at a dead run. He had to get the weapon before the Kzinti realized what had happened.
Nessus passed him like a live missile. The puppeteer reached the Kzin, turned skidding on two front legs, and lashed out. Jason winced in sympathy. That kick had been sincere! It would have torn a man in half, crushed his lungs and rib cage and spine and life.
The mad puppeteer had barely paused. He ran straight toward the Court Jester. Jason scooped up the fallen weapon, skidded to a halt, and turned.
A Kzin had Anne-Marie.
We'll see about that! His fingers moved to the weapon's adjustment guide.
A second Kzin held a stunner on him.
The stunner would start working the moment the tnuctip weapon shifted shape. He'd lose everything.
He could hear Anne-Marie swearing tearfully as she fought. Then her voice came loud and clear. "Run, dammit! Jay, run!"
He could throw the weapon to Nessus, then charge to the rescue! They'd get him, but ... but the puppeteer was well out of range ... and couldn't be trusted anyway. A puppeteer who kicked something that could kick back was beyond psychiatric help.
Anne-Marie was still kicking and using her elbows. Her Kzinti captor didn't seem to notice. The boss Kzin lay curled like a shrimp around the spot of agony in his side. But the third Kzin held his pose, still bathing Jason in an imaginary stunner beam.
Jason turned and ran.
He saw Nessus leave the Jester's entrance and go on. He guessed what he would find, but he had to look. Sure enough, the door was soldered shut.
The laser setting would have melted the steel solder away from the hullmetal door. But the third Kzin was finally in motion, coming after him, still trying to use the stunner.
Jason ran on. The puppeteer was a diminishing point. Jason followed that point, moving into a co
ld waste lit by a fiery arch with one bright glare spot.
"Flyer, return to the ship at once."
"Chuft-Captain, he's around here somewhere. I can find him."
"Or he could find you. Return to the ship. The rules of this game have changed."
The Kzin was gone. Jason had stalked him for a time, with his weapon set to the energy-absorbing phase and with his thumb on the guide. If he had seen the Kzin, and if the Kzin hadn't seen him ... a variable-sword, a hair-thin wire sheathed in a stasis field, would have cut one enemy into two strangers. But it hadn't happened, and he wasn't about to follow the Kzin back to home base.
Now he lay huddled in the hole he'd dug with the rocket phase.
"Jay!" It was Anne-Marie. "Have to talk quick; they're taking off my helmet. I'm not hurt, but I can't get away. The ship's taking off. Bury the weapon somewh-"
Her voice faded and was gone. The public band was silent.
Nessus' voice broke that silence. "Jason, turn to the private band."
He had to guess which band Nessus meant. He was third-time lucky.
"Can you hear me?'
"Yah. Where are you?"
"I do not know how to describe my position, Jason. I ran six or seven miles east."
"Okay. Let's think of a way to find each other."
"Why, Jason?"
He puzzled over that. "You think you're safer alone? I don't. How long will your suit keep you alive?"
"Several standard years. But help will arrive before then."
"What makes you think so?"
"When the Kzinti pilot entered the pressure curtain, I was calling my people for help."
"What? How?"
"Despite recent changes in the fortunes of my people, that is still most secret."
Telepathy? Something in his baggage or surgically implanted under his skin? The puppeteers kept their secrets well. Nobody had ever found out how they could commit painless suicide at will. And how Nessus had done it didn't matter. "Are they coming for you all the way from Andromeda?"
