Man-Kzin Wars 9

by Larry Niven

  Then Sraff-Zisht was gone.

  “We track him,” Paradoxical said. “Gravitons, heavily accelerating, there.”

  A green circle on the sky marked nothing but stars, but I spun the boat to put cross hairs on it. “Electromagnetic,” I shouted.

  “Am I a fool?” The gun grumbled, shifting from projectile mode.

  “Graviton wake has stopped.”

  Fly-By-Night cried, “I have not fired!”

  I said, “He’s got no hyperdrive—”

  Paradoxical said, “Gravitons again. He will ram.”

  The room wobbled, my hair stood on end, Fly-By-Night fluffed out into a great orange puffball. “Graviton wake is gone,” Paradoxical said.

  I moved us, thirty gee lateral, in case his aim was good.

  Sraff-Zisht, falling free, shot past us by two miles. I chased it down. Whim made me zip in alongside the ship’s main window. Grinning like a Kzin, I screamed, “Now wait us out!”

  In the hologram stage Meebrlee-Riit hugged a stack of meteor patches while he pulled on the waterfall door. Vacuum inside would be holding the door shut. We could see Tech working his way into a pressure suit, but Meebrlee-Riit hadn’t thought of that yet. He turned to look at the camera, at us.

  He cringed. Down on his belly, face against the floor.

  Paradoxical set our com laser on Home. The lightspeed lag was several hours, so I just recorded a help call and sent it. Then, as we’d have to anyway, we three began recording the whole story. That too would arrive before we could—

  Tech stood above Meebrlee-Riit, watching us. When Fly-By-Night looked at him he cringed, a formal crouch. “Dominant One, what must we do?”

  Fly-By-Night said, “Tend your cargo until you can be towed to Home. Meebrlee-Riit also I place in your charge. Set your screamer and riding lights so you can be found. You may dream of betrayal but do not act on it. You know what I am. I know who you are. Your hostages’ lives will buy back your blood line.”

  He’d said he couldn’t read minds. I still think he was bluffing.

  A century ago the new settlers had towed a moonlet from elsewhere into geosynchronous orbit around Home. Home Base was where incoming ships arrived, and where they thawed incoming Ice Class passengers.

  The law had business with hijackers and kidnappers; we were their witnesses. We were the system’s ongoing news item. Media and the law were waiting.

  I rapidly judged that anchorpersons and lawyers were my fate. The only way to hide myself was to sign with Home Information Megacorp and talk my head off until my public grew bored.

  If Carlos Wu tried to call me they’d be all over him too. I hoped he’d wait it out.

  Sraff-Zisht we had left falling free through Home system. Home Rule had to round up ships to bring it back. It took two of their own, four Belters acting for the bounty, and one shared by a media consortium, all added to the several they sent after Odysseus. It took them ten days to fetch Sraff-Zisht.

  For eight days I was questioned by Home and ARM law and by LE Wilyama Warbelow, the anchor from Home Information Megacorp. Wilyama was wired for multisensory recording. What she experienced became immortal.

  They’d wanted to do that to me too.

  The last two days were a lull: I was able to more or less relax, and even see a bit of the captured asteroid. Then Sraff-Zisht descended on tethers to Home Base, and everybody wanted Mart Graynor.

  The Covenant against sensory deprivation as torture has long since been interpreted as the right to immediate trial, not just for Kzinti but throughout human space, a right not to be evaded. I was to submit to questioning by Meebrlee-Riit and Tech, by their lawyer and everyone else’s, while two hundred Ice Class passengers were being thawed elsewhere.

  I screamed my head off. Cameras were on me. The law bent. When they thawed the hostages from Sraff-Zisht, I was there to watch.

  My wife and child weren’t there.

  And we all trooped off to use the holo wall in the Outbound Enterprises Boardroom.

  The prisoners watched us from an unknown site. It didn’t seem likely they’d burst through the holo wall and rip us apart. Meebrlee-Riit’s eyes glittered. Tech only watched.

  The court had restricted the factions to one advocate each. All I had for company were Sirhan, a police commissioner from Home Rule; Judge Anita Dee; Handel, an ARM lawyer; Barrister, a runty Kzin assigned as advocate to the prisoners; a hugely impressive peach-colored Kzin, Rasht-Myowr, representing the Patriarch; and anchorperson Wilyama Warbelow.

  Judge Dee told the prisoners, “You are each and together accused of violations of local law in two systems, and of the Covenants of 2505 at Fafnir. A jury will observe and decide your fate.”

  LE Barrister spoke quickly. “You may not be compelled to speak nor to answer questions, and I advise against it. I am to speak for you. Your trial will take at least two days, as we must wait for other witnesses, but no more than four.”

  Meebrlee-Riit spoke in Interworld. “We have followed the Covenants. Where are my accusers?”

  They all looked at me. I said, “Gone.”

  “Gone?”

  “Fly-By-Night and Paradoxical and I signed an exclusive contract with Home Information Megacorp for our stories. I got a room here at Home Base. They’ll thaw my family here, after all.” If they lived. “We gave LE Warbelow,” I nodded; the anchor bowed, “an hour’s interview, presumed to be the first of many. Fly-By-Night and Paradoxical transferred to a shuttle. The Patriarch’s representative missed them by just under two hours. They disappeared on the way down.”

  I’ve never doubted their destination. Fly-By-Night had come to Home for a reason, and he never told anyone who had arranged their transport to Fafnir.

  The law raised hell, as if it were my fault they were gone. Warbelow was more sensible. She paid for my room, a major expense that wasn’t in our contract. With the aliens gone, I had become the only game in town.

  They got their money’s worth. Mart Graynor emerged as a braggart with a Fafnir accent I’d practiced for two years. I played the same tune while various lawyers and law programs questioned me. I hoped nobody would see a resemblance to documentaries once made by Beowulf Shaeffer.

  Barrister reacted theatrically. “Gone! Then who is witness against my clients?”

  “We have LE Graynor, Your Honor,” Sirhan said, speaking for Home Rule, “and the crew and passengers of Odysseus will be called. Odysseus had to be chased down in the Kuiper belt, the inner comets, and towed in. They’ll be arriving tomorrow. Any of the passengers might press claims against the defendants.”

  The judge said, “LE Handel?”

  The ARM rep said, “The Longest War threatens all of human space. We need what these Kzinti can tell us. They’ve violated the Covenants. There was clear intent to store humans as reserves of meat—”

  “This was a local act against Homer citizens!” Sirhan said.

  Judge Dee gestured at the big peach-colored Kzin, who said, “The Patriarch’s claim is that Meebrlee-Riit is no relative of his and has no claim to his name. I am to take possession—”

  Meebrlee-Riit leapt at us, bounced back from the wall—or from a projection screen—and screamed something prolonged. “I flew outside the universe!” said my translator. “Who can do that? Only the -Riit! In cowardice does the Patriarch disclaim my part in the Long War!” He changed to Interworld: “LE Graynor knows! Nine days through hyperspace, accurately to my rendezvous!”

  “I am to take possession and return him for trial, and his Heroes too. I must have Envoy’s ear, Graynor, unless you can establish a kill. Nameless One, Kzinti elsewhere can fly hyperspace. Females of your line may have reached the -Riit harem. What of it?”

  “My line descends from the Patriarch! I violated no Covenants!”

  The runty Kzin who was his advocate caught the judge’s eye. He too spoke Interworld. “To properly represent the prisoners I must speak with them alone and encrypted to learn their wishes. I expect we will fight extradition.
Rasht-Myowr,” a prolonged howl in the Heroes’ Tongue. The Patriarch’s designate was trying to loom over him. My translator buzzed static. The runty Kzin waited, staring him down, until the big one stepped back and sheathed his claws.

  Barrister said, “Violation of the Covenants would hold my clients here in any case, but none of these claims has any force until we can interview the victims. Odysseus’ crew and passengers will reach Home Base tomorrow. We have only LE Graynor’s word for any of this.”

  “He’s telling the truth, though,” I said.

  Meebrlee-Riit barked his triumph. The ARM man said, “Futz, Graynor!”

  Judge Dee asked, “LE Graynor, are you familiar with the Covenants of 2505?”

  “As much as any law program. I’ve examined them half to death.”

  “Did you see violations?”

  “No. I thought I had. I thought Packer must have shot out Odysseus’ hyperdrive and hyperwave, putting Odysseus at unacceptable risk, but it’s clear he didn’t. Hyperdrive got Odysseus into the Home comets, and they called ahead via hyperwave as soon as they were out of the Nursery Nebula.”

  Rasht-Myowr’s tail slashed across and back. “Your other claims fail! The false lord is mine, and his remaining Hero too!”

  I said, “Whatever these two learned about Fly-By-Night and his companions, taking them back to Kzin for trial gives that to the Patriarch. On that basis I’d keep them, if I was an ARM.”

  “But you’re testifying,” the ARM said bitterly, “that they didn’t violate the Covenants.”

  “Yah.”

  “Mine! And Envoy’s ear,” Rasht-Myowr said. “His one ear. Did you kill him?”

  “I killed them both. Do you need details? Fly-By-Night was trapped in his vac refuge. We’d just rounded Turnpoint Star and Envoy was flying the ship. Difficult work, took his full attention. Back turned, free fall, crash web holding him in his chair. I had Fly-By-Night’s w’tsai.” The police had already confiscated that. “He would have killed me if he’d released his crash web in time.”

  “He would have killed you anyway! Why would you keep only one ear?”

  For an instant I couldn’t speak at all. Then I barely remembered my accent. “I h-heated one for charcoal to paint Fly-By-Night. Packer was wrestling Fly-By-Night when I chopped him up, so Fly-By-Night got the ear. He chewed off the other one. They stole, you stole my wife and child and unborn, my harem, you whasht-meery son of a stray cat! I still haven’t seen them alive. I memorized those whasht-meery Covenants. They only forbid my killing your relatives!”

  “Duel me then!” Meebrlee-Riit shouted. “Back turned, crash web locked, free fall, my claws only, blunt them if you like—”

  “Barrister, you will silence your client or I will,” the judge said.

  “—And you armed! Prove you can do this!”

  Meebrlee-Riit, I decided, was trying to commit suicide. He didn’t want to go with Rasht-Myowr. Let the Patriarch have him, I owed him nothing.

  Almost nothing.

  I said, “Judge Dee, if you’ll let me ask a few questions, I may solve some problems here.”

  “You came to be questioned, LE Graynor. What did you have in mind?”

  “Rasht-Myowr, if a violation of the Covenants can’t be proved, then I take it these prisoners are yours—”

  Judge Dee interposed. “They may be assessed for substantial property violations, Graynor. Rescue costs. A passenger ship turned to junk!”

  “I will pay the costs,” Rasht-Myowr said.

  I asked, “You’ll take them back to your Patriarch?”

  “Yah.”

  “They’ll be tried publicly, of course.”

  The peach-colored Kzin considered, then said, “Of course.”

  “The court will have a telepath to question him? They always do.”

  “Rrr. Your point?”

  “Would you let a telepath find out what Meebrlee-Riit saw of the telepaths of Sheathclaws? And learn how they live? Really?”

  He didn’t get it. I said, “Three hundred years living alongside Humans. Sharing their culture. Their schooling programs. Instead of theft and killing, hang gliding! Meebrlee-Riit, tell him about Fly-By-Night.”

  The prisoner looked at the Patriarch’s voice. He said, “I crawled on my belly for him.”

  Rasht-Myowr yowled. “With the -Riit name on you? How dare you?”

  “I meant it.”

  “Meant—?”

  “Do you think I was born with no pride, to take and defend a name like mine? I found I could fly the Outsider hyperdrive! I knew that I must be a -Riit. Then fortune favored me again. A telepath lost on Shasht, healthy and arrogant, the genetic line that will give us the Longest War!

  “Even after questioning, crippled, Nazi Killer tore up one of my unwary Heroes so that we had to leave him. He knew things about me…but Nazi Killer was no threat. Frustrating that we had to kill him, but he’d told us how to retrieve another. It was Fly-By-Night and his slaves who stripped me of everything I am! He killed my Heroes. He became Envoy! Reduced my ship to a falling prison.”

  Rasht-Myowr demanded, “Technical Officer, is your alpha officer mad?”

  Tech spoke simply; his dignity was still with him. “I followed the telepath’s commands exactly. What he had done to us, to him I followed, how could I face him? With what weapons? But Fly-By-Night was not alone. Kzin and ’man and Jotok, they took our ears.”

  I hoped then that there were unseen defenses, that nobody would have set fragile humans undefended among these Kzinti. Rasht-Myowr turned on me a gaping grin that would not let him speak. His alien stench was not that of any creature of Earth, but I knew it was his rage.

  “You can’t take them back to the Patriarchy,” I said to Rasht-Myowr. Because they had kept faith.

  Quickpony and the Van Zild children were with me when Outbound Enterprises thawed two modules of passengers taken from Odysseus. The way they were wrapped, I couldn’t tell who was who until Jeena was wheeled out of the cooker. We clung to each other and waited. If Jeena was alive, so was her mother.

  We waited, ice in our veins, and she came.

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  New York Times bestselling author and multiple award-winner Larry Niven is author of the Hugo and Nebula Award winning Ringworld, a novel recognized as a milestone in modern science fiction. Like Ringworld and its sequels, The Ringworld Engineers and The Ringworld Throne, the Man-Kzin books are part of the Known Space series, possibly the most popular SF series of all time.

  Poul Anderson, a seven-time Hugo Award winner, three-time Nebula Award winner, and the recipient of the Grand Master Award of the Science Fiction Writers of America for lifetime achievement, has been both popular and prolific for five decades, creating Nicholas van Rijn and Sir Dominic Flandry, two of the most memorable characters in science fiction, and publishing over one hundred books.

  Paul Chafe was born in Toronto, Ontario in 1965. Currently he is pursuing graduate studies in Electrical Engineering at Dalhousie University in Halifax, Nova Scotia. He is an infantry officer in the Canadian forces Reserve and has served with four regiments. When he isn’t writing he devotes his spare time to flying sailplanes, parachuting, cycling and travel. He has one son, Christian, who is 8.

  Hal Colebatch lives in a suburb of Perth, Australia, where he practices law. His recent book, Blair’s Britain, was selected by the London Spectator’s Taki as a book of the year. In addition to his earlier stories in the Man-Kzin saga, he has written mainstream fiction, biographies, plays, poetry, and several hundred articles. He has a Ph.D in Political Science, and has been an advisor to two Australian Federal Ministers. He is married and has two stepchildren.

 

 

 
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