Larry Niven’s Man-Kzin Wars - X

by Hal Colebatch

  He must be stopped! He must adore the thrint! Richard wrestled with the door, ignoring the two dying slaves. The locking sequence defeated him for a moment as the thrint command filled his brain. When he opened it, the corridor was empty. Gay and the howling Charrgh-Captain following him, he stumbled after the treacherous slave. The purple-and-orange blood trail was easy to follow. There was a stink of burnt kzinti flesh from the Viper’s laser-blast.

  The boat-deck airlock was closed. They felt the Wallaby lurch as the Joey blasted away on its chemical rockets. SLAVES OF THE THRINT! ATTEND!

  They stopped in their tracks. Attention left room for nothing else. Now the picture in their minds was changing. The sky behind the great Thrint was growing darker, shot with red. Its lips were rolling back, showing vast teeth and the gaping orifice of its mouth. The slaves at its feet gamboled no longer.

  UNGRATEFUL TNUCTIPUN! He felt his being shaken with volcanic hatred against an image such as he had never seen. He knew it—tnuctip—and he cried out for the chance to tear a tnuctip apart with his teeth and fingernails. RUINING OUR RACING VIPRIN! Was that the first thing the Slavers had against them? Richard realized that altering the thrint’s favorite sport by introducing mutations was indeed among the crown of horrors for which the accursed little arboreals were responsible. UNGRATEFUL TNUCTIPUN! But their doom was upon them. He felt rage against the tnuctipun shaking his body as the colossus standing in his mind recited a long and varied list of thrint grievances against the rebellious slaves. The sky began to ripple.

  On the instrument panel the Joey showed already far away, the slender bottle shape of a General Products #2 hull flashing up to full acceleration. Peter Robinson was running. The kzinti telepaths’ shield evolved after the Slaver Power, Richard realized with a part of his mind that the Great Thrint had no interest in. The thrint did not allow for it. But the suicide command could not be outrun. The rebellious Wunderkzin would meet the just doom of all ungrateful slaves. Gatley Ivor lay dead. Melody Fay knelt bleeding in an attitude of adoration until she too fell.

  BEFORE YOU PERISH UTTERLY, YOU WILL ADORE AND DREAD YOUR MASTERS! ADORE! He felt a fresh wave of joy, love and gratitude to the thrint sweeping over him. The rebellious Wunderkzin might still be destroyed if it would not adore. Together he and Charrgh-Captain crossed to the console that would launch the Wallaby’s already-armed missiles. The screen showed the Joey was turning.

  APPRECIATE THE COUNTDOWN TO YOUR DEATHS! THE STARS ARE TO BE CLEANSED!

  That was all right then. Their masters did not need them to fire on the suborned rebel in its hopeless flight. They did not need to do anything in their remaining moments. Only to understand what was coming. Across the sky, now almost entirely black, the Great Thrint was turning into an image of Death, burning into the minds of human and kzin. Through it, the Wallaby’s bridge and the instruments could still be seen, but the Great Death was becoming more and more solid, inexorable. A fear was growing like none he had ever imagined. Now terror paralyzed all movement. The certain knowledge of imminent death filled the Universe. There was something like a drum roll, whose crescendo would be the command that ended sapient life. Beyond it the Universe was twisting and beginning to disappear. A cold hand was closing on his heart, ready to clench upon it and still it.

  On one screen the Joey was a streak of fire across black space. Its gravity generator was running in parallel with its chemical rockets. And there was something else. On the surface of the great sphere a spot of light was growing. Peter Robinson was firing its laser ahead of it. The stony shell was boiling away, revealing the Amplifier’s structure.

  Another screen showed the Joey’s cabin. Peter Robinson was slumped over the control console, his head a mask of bubbling blood, the claws of one hand barely moving on the controls.

  The thrint control seemed to be wavering now. In Richard’s vision the white-boned image of Death flickered a moment. The Joey’s laser was burning into the Amplifier. Richard, unable to move or speak, remembered the shuttle’s nuclear missiles and self-destruct. The Amplifier and the line of fire that was the Joey were on the same screen now. The screen went white.

  Wallaby’s General Products hull should be safe when the wave-front and any fragments struck them, and nothing essential protruded beyond it. The thrint image and voice had ended abruptly in every mind. The screen began to fade.

  The stasis-boxes in the control chamber—the unused atomic clocks and their crews and the thrintun and slaves in stasised suits—would be flung scattering into space, to be captured eventually by the gravity-fields of some distant suns. They might one day enter the embrace of neutron stars or black holes. They might perhaps pass out into the black voids between the spiral arms, into the voids between the island galaxies. They might survive the end of the universe. But the Amplifier was gone.

  He activated the restraining webs for the survivors before the wave front of wreckage struck them.

  “As well that they were determined to let us all know exactly what they had against the tnuctipun,” said Richard. “And as well their technology was imperfect. As well. Many things were as well.” He began to laugh and found he could not stop.

  “Sapient life in the galaxy was saved by a telepath of the kzinti species,” said Gay. “We must tell Humanity.”

  “We must tell Kzin,” said Charrgh-Captain, “Let them honor a telepath. A Wunderkzin telepath, for it was Wunderland and the humans that made him what he was. A telepath of the Patriarchy could not have done what he did…nor…nor any Hero.” He pulled from his claw a tuft of Peter Robinson’s orange fur, flesh and a fragment of bone adhering to it. “That will go to a worship-shrine,” he said. “He spoke of statues. There will be a statue of him in the sky of Homeworld forever, high above the Patriarch’s Palace. I pledge my Name as my Word that it shall be so.”

  “Poor Peter Robinson!” said Gay.

  “No,” said Charrgh-Captain. “Do not pity his death, though you see a Kzin standing before you who now envies you humans your gift of tears. Sapient life will be his monument forevermore…Forgive my madness.”

  “The Amplifier caused it,” said Gay. “Even before the command struck. There is nothing to forgive.”

  “At its deepest moment I dreamed of joining the Riit Clan…But he will face the Fanged God as a son honored beyond the Patriarchs…almost an equal. There are no words for such glory.”

  “Look there!” Gay pointed at the screen. The electromagnetic pulse of the explosion was being overridden now.

  “The Joey!…She survived!”

  “I’d forgotten. She is also a General Products hull.”

  “She’s under some sort of control. He lives…or he lived recently.”

  Other screens were clearing now. Charrgh-Captain turned abruptly away before the Joey’s cabin could be seen again.

  “I ask you to bring him in without me,” he said. “If he is still alive your waldos can lift him into the kzin autodoc. I go to my cabin. Before the God, I cannot face him…Later, perhaps. Tell him what I will do.” He turned and left.

  Richard opened the docking bay. The Joey, carrying Peter Robinson, came into sight and grew.

  “Can you handle it?” said Gay.

  “Yes. And then what?”

  “Let’s go home,” said Gay.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  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.

  ABOUT THE CREATOR

  Larry Niven, New York Times bestselling author and multiple award-winner, is author of the Hugo and Nebula Award winning Ringworld, a novel recognized as a milestone in modern science fiction. Like Ringworld and its se
quels, 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.