My translator said, “I am Meebrlee-Ritt.”
“Futz!” Fly-By-Night exclaimed in Interworld.
“Your concern is noted. Yes, I am of the Patriarch’s line. Your First Sire was Gutting Claw’s Telepath, who betrayed the Patriarch Rrowrreet-Ritt and showed prey how to destroy his own ship!”
“And he never even went back for the ears. Then again, they were inside a hot plasma,” Fly-By-Night said.
To Envoy Meebrlee-Ritt said, “This one was to be tamed.”
Envoy cringed, ears flat. Even I could hear the change in his voice, the whine. “Dominant One, this fool crippled himself for a failed joke, and that joke was his name quest! A lesser male he must be, never mated. His arrogance is bluff or insanity, or else life among humans has made him quite alien! But let Tech give us air pressure, release the telepath, and the stench of your rage will cow him soon enough!”
“Let us expend less effort than that.” Meebrlee-Ritt turned back to Fly-By-Night. “Telepath, your life may be taken by any who happen upon you.”
“Did you need my consent for this?”
“No!”
“Or my First Sire’s confession? That may be summoned by any Sheathclaws school program. Then what shall we discuss? Tell us how you gained your name.”
“I was born to it, of course. Let us discuss your future.”
“I have a future?”
“Your blood line may be forgiven. You may keep your slaves, such as they are, and a harem of my choosing—”
“Yours? Dominant One, forgive my interruption, please continue.”
Even if he was familiar with human sarcasm, it wasn’t likely Meebrlee-Ritt had been getting it from Kzinti! I’d read that Kzinti telepaths were flighty, not terribly bright. Meebrlee-Ritt spoke more slowly. “Yes, my choosing! You may live your life in honor and luxury, or you may die shredded by my hands.”
“Meebrlee-Ritt, you would not expect me to leap into so difficult a decision. Will you bargain for the lives of your hostages?”
“Submissive and unarmed Humans.” Meebrlee-Ritt sneezed his contempt. “But what would you bargain with? Your world?”
“Only my genes. Consider,” said Fly-By-Night. In the Heroes’ Tongue his speech was a long snarl, but the translation sounded placid enough. “He who is obeyed, who fights best, who mates is the alpha, the dominant one. You command that I mate? How will you persuade me that I am dominant? Submit to this one easy demand. Rescue my erstwhile hosts. Release them at Home.”
“Why would I want you in rut? There are no females aboard Sraff-zisht. Packer, Envoy, you remain. Leave the gravity off. Tech, with me. Turnpoint Star is near.”
Two Kzinti went through the hatch. Two took their seats. Their hands were idle. Now the boat rode Stealthy-Mating like a parasite.
I asked, “Can you see Turnpoint Star?”
“At point six kilometers across? You flatter me. I surmise it may be centered in that curdle,” said Paradoxical.
Curdle? The tight little knot of glowing gas? I watched, watched… A red point blew up into a blue-white sun and I fell into it. The stars wheeled. The balloons that housed us rippled as if batted by invisible children. My body rippled too.
I’d been through this once, but much worse. I clutched the ribbon handholds in a death grip. I howled.
It only lasted seconds, but the terror remained. One of the Kzinti pointed at me and both laughed with their teeth showing.
Packer made his way to the shower/toilet. The other, Envoy, stayed at the board to look for tidal damage.
Fly-By-Night took handholds, subtly braced, ears spread wide. His eye caught mine. I said, “Paradoxical, now.”
Paradoxical splayed itself like a starfish across the wall of the refuge, just next to the opening. It disgorged the handle of the w’tsai.
I pulled the wrapped blade from its gullet and stripped off the casing. Clutched the blade against me, exhaled hard, opened the zipper all in one sweep, smooth as silk. Pressure popped me out into the cabin, straight toward Envoy’s back, screaming to empty my lungs before they exploded.
Push the blade in, pull out, feel the vibration.
I had thought to recoil off a wall and slice Fly-By-Night free. That wasn’t going to work. The Kzin diplomat saw my shadow and spun around. I slashed, aiming to behead him, and shifted the blade to catch the cat-quick sweep of his arm.
He swept his arm through the blade and whacked me under the jaw.
That was a powerful blow. I spun dizzily away. His arm spun too, cut along a diagonal plane, spraying blood. Attached, it would have ripped my head off.
I caught myself against a wall and leapt.
The seat web still held Envoy. His right arm and sleeve sprayed blood and air. Envoy smashed left-handed at the controls, then hit the seat web and leapt out of my path. I got his foot! The knife was hellishly sharp. My ears were roaring, my sight was going, but vacuum tore at him too as his arm and ankle jetted blood and air. His balance was all off as he recoiled from the dome and came at me. He kicked. My angle was wrong and he grazed me.
Spinning, spinning, I starfished out so that the wall caught my momentum and killed my spin. I tried to find him.
The roar continued. My sight was foggy…no. The cabin was thick with fog. Fly-By-Night clawed his refuge wall, which had gone slack. We had air!
I still didn’t have time to free Fly-By-Night because—there he was! Envoy was back at the controls. I was braced to leap when a white glare blazed from his hand.
He had the gun.
I changed my jump. It took me behind the cannon. Two projectiles punched into the wall behind me. I swiped the w’tsai in a wide slash across Fly-By-Night’s vacuum refuge, and continued falling toward the shower/toilet. Packer couldn’t ignore Ragnarok forever.
The door opened in my face and I chopped vertically. Packer was naked. His left hand was on the doorlock so I changed the cut, right to catch his free hand, his claws and the iron w’tsai he’d been holding. He whacked me hard but the blow was blunt. I spun once and crashed into Envoy and slashed.
Glimpsed Paradoxical behind him, braced myself and slashed. Paradoxical was firing anaesthetic needles. The Kzin wasn’t fighting back. I didn’t see the implication so I kept slashing.
“Mart! LE Mart! Beowulf!”
I screamed, “What?” Disturbing me now could…what? Before me was a drifting cloud of blood and butchered meat. Paradoxical had stopped firing needles into it. Behind me, Fly-By-Night was on Packer’s back, gnawing Packer’s ear and fending off the hand that still had claws. Packer beat him with the blunted hand. They both looked trapped. Packer couldn’t reach Fly-By-Night, but Fly-By-Night dared not let go.
I approached with care. Packer’s arms were busy so he kicked to disembowel me. I chopped off what I could reach. Kick/slash, kick/slash. When he slowed down I killed him.
***
The air was thick with blood globules and red fog. We were breathing that futz. I got a cloth across my face. Fly-By-Night was snorting and sneezing. Paradoxical had placed meteor patches where Envoy had fired at me, but now he floated limp, maybe dying. I put him into the refuge and got him to zip it.
Fly-By-Night went to the controls. Minutes later we had gravity. All the scarlet goo settled to the floor and we could breathe.
I had gone berserk. Never happened before. My mind was slow coming back. Why was there air?
Air. Think now: I slashed Envoy’s suit open. He pressurized the cabin to save his life. Paradoxical must have come out then. The Jotok’s needles knocked Envoy out despite pressure armor…why? Because Paradoxical was putting needles into flesh wherever I’d slashed away the Kzin’s armor. And of course I hadn’t got around to releasing Fly-By-Night until late—
I safed the blade. “Fly-By-Night? I believe this is yours.”
He took it gingerly. “No witness would have guessed that,” he said, and handed it back. “Clean it in the waterfall.”
Kzinti custom: never borrow a w’tsai. If you
do, return it clean. Waterfall?
He meant the big box. The word was a joke. I found a big blanket made of sponge, a tube attached. When I wrapped it around the w’tsai, it left the blade clean. I tried it on myself. The blanket flooded me with soapy water, then clean water, then sucked me dry. Weird sensation, but I came out clean.
The toilet looked like an oval box of sand with foot- and handholds around it, though the sand stayed put. Later.
A pressure suit was splayed like a pelt against the wall for easy access.
There was a status display. I couldn’t read the glowing dots-and-commas, but the display must have told Packer there was air outside, and he’d come charging out—
I was starting to shake.
I emerged from the waterfall box into a howling gale. The blood was all gone. I couldn’t even smell it. Fly-By-Night and Paradoxical were at the kitchen wall feeding butchered meat into the hopper.
“This kind of thing must be normal on Patriarchy spacecraft,” Fly-By-Night said cheerfully. “Holes in walls and machinery, blood and corpses everywhere, no problem. This hopper would hold a Great Dane…a big dog, Mart. The cleanup subsystem is running smooth as a human’s arse.” He saw my shivering. “You have killed. You should feed. Must your meat be cooked? I don’t know that we have a heat source.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I must. I’m hungry!” Fly-By-Night smiled widely. “You wouldn’t like me hungry, would you?”
“Futz, no!” A Sheathclaws local joke? I tried to laugh. Shivering.
Paradoxical was crawling over one of the control panels. “This kitchen was mounted separately. It is of Shashter manufacture, perhaps connected to the orange underground. It will feed slaves.” It tapped at a surface, and foamy green stuff spilled into a plastic bag. Pond scum? It tapped again and the wall generated a joint of bloody meat. Again: it hummed and disgorged a layered brick.
A handmeal. While Paradoxical sucked at his bag of pond scum and Fly-By-Night devoured hot raw meat, I ate three handmeal bricks. They never tasted that good again.
Fly-By-Night had kept Packer’s ears, one intact and one chewed to a nub, and Envoy’s, both intact. These last he offered to me. “Your kill. Mart, I can dispose of—”
I took them. My kill.
* * *
We had taken the boat. Now what?
Fly-By-Night said, “The hard part will be persuading Meebrlee-Ritt that all is well here.” His voice changed. “Dominant One, all runs as planned but for the Telepath’s behavior. Cowed by fear, he has soiled his refuge. Shall we clean him? It might be a trick—”
Funny stuff. I was still shivering. “That’s very good, I can’t tell the difference, but Meebrlee-Ritt or Tech might.”
“Guide me.”
“I can’t find the hologram stage.”
Fly-By-Night touched something. This whole side of the main weapon became a window, floor to dome, a gaudy panorama across orange veldt into a city of massive towers. We’d been prisoned on the other side of it.
I said, “Tanj! He’ll see every hair follicle. All right, I’m still thrashing around here. We’ve got Packer’s pressure suit. The orders were to leave the, ah, prisoners in vacuum and falling. Try this—
“Whenever Meebrlee-Ritt calls, Packer is in the waterfall room.” We hadn’t heard enough of Packer’s speech to imitate Packer. “LE Fly-By-Night, you’re Envoy. You’re in the pressure suit, we’re in the vac refuges. We’ll have to change the markings on the suit. I’d say Envoy’s move is to wait patiently for his Alpha Officer to call.” I didn’t like the taste of this. “He could catch us by surprise.”
“I should find an excuse to call him.”
“Anything goes wrong, you give us air instantly. Paradoxical, have you found an emergency air switch?”
“Here, then here.”
“Stet. Envoy, what’s wrong with your voice?”
“Nothing,” said Fly-By-Night.
“Well, there had better be.”
“Stet,” the Kzin said. “And we don’t really want vacuum, do we? Let’s try this instead. I’m calling because we’re not in vacuum, and my voice—”
And his tale was better than mine, so we worked on that.
We spent some time looking those controls over, trying a few things. We found air pressure, air mix, emergency pressure, cabin gravity, thrust. Weapons would be harder to test. There were controls you could hit by accident without killing anyone, and that was done with virtual control panels. Weapons and defenses were hardwired buttons and switches, a few of them under locked cages, all stiff enough but big enough that I could turn them on or off by jabbing with the heel of my hand. Paradoxical couldn’t move those at all.
The hologram wall was the telescope screen too. Paradoxical got us a magnificent view back into the Nursery Nebula, all curdles and whorls of colored light. It found Odysseus a light hour behind us, under spin and falling free with no sign of motive power, only a chain of corridor lights and the brighter glow of the lobby. That didn’t tell us if they still had hyperdrive. They couldn’t use it yet.
Ahead was nothing but distant stars. We had to be approaching flat space, where Stealthy-Mating could jump to hyperdrive.
Fly-By-Night was wearing Envoy’s pressure suit. The markings were right. He would keep the right sleeve hidden. We had cut off part of the helmet, raggedly, to obscure his features. Now Fly-By-Night tapped at the kitchen wall. It disgorged a soft, squishy dark red organ that might have been a misshapen human liver. He smeared blood over his face and chest, then into the exposed ear.
My shivering became a violent shudder. Fly-By-Night looked at me in consternation. “LE Mart? What’s wrong?”
“Too much killing.”
“Two enemies is too much? Get out of camera view, then. Are we ready?”
“Go.”
***
Meebrlee-Ritt snarled, “Envoy, this had best be of great interest. We prepare for hyperdrive.”
“Dominant One, the timing was not of my choosing,” Fly-By-Night bellowed into the oversized face. “The human attacked while Packer was visiting the waterfall. I have killed the telepath’s slave—”
“The Jotok is dead?”
Fly-By-Night cringed. “No, Dominant One, no! Only the man. The Jotok lives. Telepath lives.”
“The man is nothing. Telepath did not purchase the man! Is Packer functional, and are you?”
“Packer is well. I have nosebleeds, lost lung function, lost hearing. The man had a projectile weapon, a toy, but he damaged my helmet. I managed to put the cabin under pressure. Packer keeps watch on Telepath. Shall I return the cabin to vacuum? One of us would have to remain in the waterfall.”
“Set Packer at the controls. What can he ruin while there is nothing to fly? Maintain free fall. You and Packer trained for free fall, our prisoner did not. You, Envoy, talk to Telepath. Learn what he desires, what he fears.”
Cringe. “Dominant One, I shall.”
Again we faced an electromagnetic cannon. I said, “Good. Really good.”
Space around me winked like an eye. I caught it happening and looked at the floor. Fly-By-Night looked up, and blinked at the distortion. “Mart, I don’t think…Mart? I’m blind.”
Paradoxical was in a knot, his arms covering all of his eyes. I said, “Maybe you’d better take Paradoxical into the waterfall and stay there.”
“Lost! Confused! Blind! How do you survive this?” the Jotok demanded. “How does any LE?”
“They’ll close off the windows on Stealthy-Mating. I don’t see how to do that in here. I guess they leave the boat empty if they can. Fly-By-Night, lower your head. Look at the floor. See the floor? Hold that pose.”
“Stet.”
I got under Paradoxical and he wrapped himself around me, sixty pounds of dry-skinned octopus. I eased him onto Fly-By-Night’s shoulders until he clung. “Gravity’s on, right? Just crawl on around to the waterfall. Don’t look up.”
***
In hype
rdrive something unmeasurable happens to electromagnetic phenomena, or else to organs that perceive them: eyes, optic nerves, brains. A view of hyperspace is like being born sightless. The Blind Spot, we call it.
In the waterfall room we straightened up and stretched. Fly-By-Night said, “None of us can fly—”
“No. We’re passengers. Stowaways. Relax and let them do the flying.”
Paradoxical asked, “How can any mind guide a ship through this?”
I said, “There are species that can’t tolerate it. Jotoki can’t. Maybe puppeteers can’t; most of them never leave their home system. Humans can use a mass pointer, a psionics device to find our way through hyperspace, as long as we don’t look into the Blind Spot directly. But that’s…well, part of a psionics device is the operator’s mind. Computers don’t see anything. Kzinti don’t either. There are just a few freaky Kzinti who can steer through the Blind Spot directly.”
“It is the Patriarch’s blood line,” Paradoxical said. “After the first War with Men, when Kzinti acquired hyperdrive, they learned that most cannot astrogate through hyperspace. Some few can. The Patriarch paid with names and worlds to add their sisters and daughters to his harem. Today the -Ritts can fly hyperspace.”
Fly-By-Night said, “Really?”
“It happened long after your folk were cut off. LE Graynor, I did research on more than just you. Of course you see the implications? Meebrlee-Ritt must fly Stealthy-Mating. He will be under some strain, possibly at the edge of his sanity. Tech must see him in that embarrassing state. Envoy and Packer need not, and no prisoner should.”
“He won’t call?” I made it a question.
“He would not expect answer. Packer and Envoy would be hiding in the Waterfall,” Paradoxical said.
That satisfied us. We were tired.
***
For three days we lived in the waterfall room.
One Kzin would have crowded the waterfall. With a man and a Jotok it was just that much more crowded. The smell of an angry Kzin made me jumpy. I couldn’t sleep that way, so a high wind was kept blowing at all times.
There Will Be War Volume X Page 38
