“Our makeup wouldn't stand up to that.”
“No, and I promise not to eat the makeup!”
We kept him talking. I wanted to see how long the makeup would last. I wanted to see if he'd go berserk. A little berserk wouldn't hurt, in a Kzin who had been trapped in sensory deprivation for many days, but he had to remember his lines. Three hours later… he didn't crack, but the makeup started to. We sent him off to get clean.
Morning of the ninth day. I couldn't stop chattering.
“We'll drop out of hyperspace at the edge of Home system. We almost know when. There is only one speed in hyperdrive—” though Quantum Two hyperdrive is hugely faster and belongs to another species. “If Sraff-Zisht has been traveling straight toward Home at three days to the light-year, we'll drop out in…”
“Four hours and ten minutes,” Paradoxical said.
“The jigger factor is, where does Meebrlee-Riit drop us out? Hyperdrive takes “flat” space. If there are masses around to distort space, the ship's gone. Pilots are very careful not to get too close to their target sun. Really cautious types aim past a target system. Just what kind of pilot is Meebrlee-Riit?”
“Your pronunciation is terrible,” said Fly-By-Night.
“Yah?”
“Crazy Kzin. Dive straight in. Cut the hyperdrive ten ce'meters short of death. Let our intrinsic velocity carry us straight into the system. Mart, that is the only decent bet.”
“Where is Packer? Still in the waterfall?”
“I will think of something.”
“I want you in makeup two hours early.”
“No.”
“H—”
“Yes, he might drop out short! But he might circle! He might enter Home system at an angle. Our window of opportunity has to slop over on either side.” Fly-By-Night's speech was turning mushy again, lips pulling far back, lots of gleaming white teeth. Even Envoy didn't look like that. Sheathclaws must have good dental hygiene.
“We know that he will not show himself to Envoy and Packer after nine days of letting the Blind Spot drive him crazy and ruin his hairdo. You'll have forty minutes to make me beautiful.”
“Stet. What next? Decelerate for a week. Drop the boat somewhere, maybe in the asteroids, without changing course. The Home asteroid belt is fairly narrow. Still plenty of room to hide.
“They'll bring you aboard ship just before they drop the boat. Because you're dangerous. Thanks.” He'd dialed me up a handmeal. “You're dangerous, so they'll keep you in free fall until the last minute. If we're wrong about that, we could get caught by surprise.”
“Bring me aboard? How does that work? Order Envoy and Packer to stun me and pull me through the small lock? We can't do that. They're dead!”
“Lure the technology officer in here.”
“How?”
“Don't know. Make up a story. Let's just get through dropout without getting caught.”
* * *
A recording spoke. A computer whined, “Dominant Ones, we have returned to the universe. Be patient for star positions.”
Paradoxical started the curtain retracting. Stars emerged. I went to the kitchen wall and dialed up what we needed.
The recording reeled off a location based on some easy-to-find stars and clusters. Paradoxical listened intently. “Home system,” he said. “We will use the telescope to find better data. Can you do that alone?”
“Yah.” We'd practiced. In free fall we were still a bit awkward, but I mixed the basic makeup, then added char to a smaller batch. A bit more? All? Ready. “You do the eyebrows, Doc.”
“First I will finish this task.”
Fly-By-Night held still while I rubbed the food mixture into his facial fur. Paradoxical said, “Graviton wake indicates a second ship.”
“Damn!” Fly-By-Night snarled. I flung myself backward; my seat web caught me. Paradoxical said, “We find nothing in visible light.”
“Don't move your mouth. Aw, Fly-By-Night!” He was in an all-out snarl, trying to talk and failing. Drool made a darker runnel. “If Meebrlee-Riit saw that he wouldn't care who you are. Lose the teeth!”
Fly-By-Night relaxed his mouth. “Your extra week is down the toilet, Mart. They're making pickup here and now.”
The makeup had stayed liquid. “Paradoxical, give him eyebrows.” I brushed out the drool, then settled myself out of camera range. They'd given me the flight controls. Paradoxical on astrogation, Fly-By-Night on weapons.
Paradoxical finished his makeup work and moved out of camera range, fifteen minutes ahead of schedule. I asked, “Shall we talk? Is this second ship just an escort?”
“No. Why make Sraff-Zisht conspicuous? Transfer the telepath, then move on to Home. This new ship runs to some outer world, or to Kzin itself—” Meebrlee-Riit popped up bigger than life and fourteen minutes early. He demanded, “Envoy, is the telepath well?”
Fly-By-Night flinched, then cringed. “The telepath is healthy, Dominant One. I judge that he is not in his right mind.”
“The Jotok? Yourself? Where is Packer?”
“The Jotok amuses themself with a computer. I will welcome medical attention. Packer… Dominant One… Packer looked on hyperspace.”
“He knew better!”
“Envoy” recoiled, then visibly pulled himself together. “Soon or late, Dominant One, every Hero looks. Wealth and a name and the infinite future, if he has sisters and daughters, if he can stay sane. Packer did not. He hides in the waterfall when I let him. Set him in a hunting park soon or he will die.”
“That will not be our task. Leap For Life will be here soon. Transfer the boat to Leap For Life. Haste! No need to take Telepath out of his vacuum refuge. You will be relieved aboard Leap For Life.”
“Yes, Dominant One!”
“Packer must guard the telepath. The telepath will attack now if ever.”
“Yes—”
Meebrlee-Riit was gone.
“We have it!” Paradoxical projected what he was seeing against the cannon casing.
Still distant, backlit by Apollo, Home's sun, a sphere nestled in a glowing arc of gamma ray shield, its black skin broken by holes and projections and tiny windows. Dots-and-commas script glowed brilliant orange. “We find heavy graviton wake. That ship is decelerating hard.”
“Built in this century,” Fly-By-Night said.
Sraff-Zisht dropped us free.
This was not much of a puzzle. I spun the boat, aimed at Leap For Life and said, “Shoot.”
My hair stirred. Fly-By-Night's fur stood up and rippled. He said, “Done. Doc?”
“The graviton wake is gone. You burned out its thrusters.”
I boosted us to put Sraff-Zisht between us and Leap For Life. Leap For Life had the weapons, after all. I set our gun on Sraff-Zisht and said, “Again.”
“Done. I burned out something.”
“Graviton flare,” Paradoxical said, just as Sraff-Zisht vanished. “Meebrlee-Riit must have tried to return to hyperspace,” Fly-By-Night said. “We burned out the hyperdrive. But he still has thrusters!”
I rotated the boat to focus the gun on the immobilized Leap For Life. “Projectiles. Shoot it to bits.”
Fly-By-Night punched something. We heard the weapon adjusting, but he didn't shoot.
“Why?” I screamed, “They've got all the weapons, our shield has flown away—”
“Stet.” The boat's lone weapon roared. It was right in the middle of the cabin/cargo hold. The noise was amazing. The boat recoiled: cabin gravity lurched to compensate. Leap For Life jittered and came apart in shreds.
“—And they don't have the hostages! And now it's one less tanj thing to worry about.”
“Stet, stet, I understand!”
Paradoxical said, “We win.”
We looked at the Jotok. He said, “We may report all that has happened, now, via laser broadcast to Home. We fly the boat to Home with our proofs. The law of Home can arrange to retrieve Odysseus. With his hyperdrive burned out, Meebrlee-Riit is trapped in
Home system. In the full glare of publicity he must follow the Covenants. He may trade his hostages for some other consideration such as amnesty, but they must be returned. Stet?”
“He's still got my family! But I think we can turn on the cabin futzy gravity now, if you don't mind—” I stopped because Meebrlee-Riit, greatly magnified, was facing Fly-By-Night.
“Some such consideration,” he mimicked us. “You look stupid, Telepath, covered with food. Only one consideration can capture my interest! Read my mind if you doubt me. Release my entourage and surrender! The hostages for yourself!” Fly-By-Night's claw moved. No result showed except for Meebrlee-Riit's widening eyes, but Fly-By-Night had given him a contracted view. He was seeing all of us. “Lies! You killed my Heroes? Eeeeerg!” A hair-lifting snarl as Fly-By-Night lifted Packer's ear into view.
It seemed the right moment. I showed Envoy's surviving ear. “We had to use the other.”
“Martin Wallace Graynor, you may buy back your hostages and your life by putting the telepath into my hands!”
It began to seem that Meebrlee-Riit was mad. I asked, “Must I subdue him first?” A killing gape was my answer. I asked, “And where would you take him then, with no hyperdrive?”
“Not your concern.”
“We're going to call for help now. Over the next few hours all of Home system is going to know you're here. A civilized solar system seethes with telescopes. If you have allies in the asteroids, you can't go to them. You'd only point them out to the Home Rule.”
“What if you never make that broadcast, LE Graynor? And I can… thaw… sss.” He'd had a notion. He stepped out of range. Ducked back and fisheyed the view to show his whole cabin. The other Kzin, Tech, was at his workstation, watching.
A wall slid away. Through an aperture ten yards wide I could see a much bigger cargo hold and all of Odysseus' cargo modules. Meebrlee-Riit moved to one of them, opened a small panel and worked.
Back he came. “I can reset the temperature on these machines. I thought you might wonder, but soon I will show you thawed fish. You cannot do to me what you did to Leap For Life without killing my hostages too. If you broadcast any message at all, I will set the third module thawing, and then I will show you thawed dead hostages.”
I was sweating.
The Kzin aristocrat said, “Telepath… Fly-By-Night. I will give you a better name. Your prowess has earned a name even as an enemy. What is it we ask of you? Take a harem. Raise your sons. See your daughters grow up in the Patriarch's household. A life in luxury buys survival for sixty-four Human citizens.
“Think, then. I can wait. A boat's life support is not the match for an interstellar spacecraft. Or else—”
The mass of an interstellar spacecraft jumped into our faces. Meebrlee-Riit was tiny in its window, huge in the hologram stage. He threw his head back, a prolonged screech, mouth gaping as wide as my head. Forced his mouth to close so he could ask, “Graynor, have you ever flown a spacecraft? Do you think you have the skill to keep me from ramming you?”
I said, “Yes. Space is roomy, and the telepath is our hostage. Doc, can you give me a deep-radar view of yon privateer?”
Paradoxical guessed what I meant. The mass outside our dome went transparent. I looked it over. Fuel… more fuel… a bulky hyperdrive design from the last century. Gravity and reaction motors were also big and bulky. Skimpy cargo space, smaller cabin, and that tiny box shape must be a waterfall room just like ours.
I spun the boat. “You say I can't shoot?”
Meebrlee-Riit looked up. He must have been looking right into our gun. “Pitiful! Are all Humans natural liars?”
Fine-tuning my aim, I said, “There is a thing you should know about us. If you eat prey that is infested… whasht-meery… you may be very sick, but it doesn't kill off your whole blood line. Shoot,” I said to Fly-By-Night.
The gun roared. Meebrlee-Riit's image whirled around. The boat recoiled: gravity imbalances swirled through my belly. In our deep-radar view the waterfall room became a smudge.
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?”
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