Larry Niven - Man-Kzin Wars IX

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Man-Kzin Wars IX

created by Larry Niven

THE MAN-KZIN WARS SERIES

Created by Larry Niven

The Man-Kzin Wars

Man-Kzin Wars II

Man-Kzin Wars III

Man-Kzin Wars IV

Man-Kzin Wars V

Man-Kzin Wars VI

Man-Kzin Wars VII

Choosing Names: Man-Kzin Wars VIII

Man-Kzin Wars IX

The Best of All Possible Wars

PELE

Poul Anderson

Close to noon, the Father Sun baked pungencies out of turf and turned the forest

that walled the northern horizon into a wind-whispery surf of leaves and shadow.

Closer by, a field of hsakh stood golden. Kdatlyno slaves were hand-cultivating

it in the ancient way, growing fiber that would be handwoven into cloaks for the

mighty to wear at Midwinter Bloodfeast and then burn. Scattered elsewhere were

the dwellings of the Heroes attendant upon this household. Though stately

enough, they were dwarfed by the manor looming ahead of Ghrul-Captain.

These lands were a minor holding of Grand Lord Narr-Souwa's and the building was

fairly new, in a modern style. Mosaic of red-and-black thunderbolt pattern

decorated walls that sheered up to steep roofs of copper kept blindingly

polished, whose beam ends gaped in the forms of carnivores. Tradition had made

the lower windows mere gun slits, but those on upper floors were arrogantly

broad. Saw-toothed spires at the four cardinal points flew ancestral banners.

As was fitting, Ghrul-Captain had come afoot, unaccompanied, from a landing

field now out of sight. But he loped like a warrior to battle and passed the

gate with head high. A display of fearlessness also behooved him, showing him

not unworthy to enter the presence of the one who waited here.

His hopes heightened when he received due courtesy in return. A pair of armed

Heroes met him, gave greeting, and escorted him down a granite corridor to an

elevator, and thence to a flamewood door that recognized them and slid aside.

There they left him. Ghrul-Captain stepped through. The door silently slid shut

at his back.

The chamber was austere, paneled with various metals, its floor turf-like and

sound-absorbent. Two open windows let in daylight and summer air. He glimpsed a

hookbeak at hover outside. Furnishings were scant, mostly a minimum of

communications equipment. He was alone with Narr-Souwa.

That Grand Lord half-reclined on a couch, like a slashtooth at its ease between

hunts. He bore no weapons other than his teeth and claws. His only ornament was

a scarf loosely draped across a frame whose black-striped orange fur was getting

grizzled, but the scarf was of genuine silk, somehow brought from Earth itself.

His eyes smoldered yellow, undimmed by the years.

Ghrul-Captain did not simply come to attention and salute, as he would before an

ordinary superior. First he lowered his head and knees, tail between thighs.

That galled him. It was meant to, he knew. He should think of it as a test. The

sword blade, bent, will spring back to keen-edged straightness and ring as it

does, if the steel be true.

"Ghrul-Captain of the Navy begs leave to present himself." The request sounded

flat in his ears.

Narr-Souwa peered at him for a while that grew long. "You may relax," he

answered at last. "This interview is at your plea. Justify yourself."

Ghrul-Captain had rehearsed in his mind. "As my lord knows, I advanced my

proposal"-he laid a measured weight on that word-"through proper channels. I

never looked for response at this exalted level, and still less the glory of a

flesh-meeting." Which might, he thought, be the prelude to a death sentence. If

so, may I be turned loose in yonder forest for him and his hunters to chase down

as they would any other brave, dangerous animal. Maybe I can take one or two to

the Darkness with me.

"I want to get the actual scent of you and the sense of how your blood runs,"

explained Narr-Souwa. "Yours is an unusual suggestion . . . especially from a

member of your house."

I have nothing to gain, much to lose, by self-abasement, Ghrul-Captain knew.

"Noble One, my wish is to redeem the honor of that house."

Narr-Souwa stroked his chin. "Honor has been satisfied. High Admiral Ress-Chiuu

made a decision and issued orders that proved disastrous. It cost us a warship's

whole complement. Worse, it let that ship fall into the hands of the humans.

Their naval intelligence has surely been dissecting it ever since. When

condemned, Ress-Chiuu went boldly into the Patriarchal Arena and acquitted

himself well against the beasts. It was good sport."

Ghrul-Captain drew breath. "So their spokesmales have graciously informed his

kin. But, sire-my lord will understand that we want to make full redemption."

Narr-Souwa's eyes narrowed a bit. "And thus regain his holdings, as well as the

prestige," he said shrewdly. "The database has told me that you would inherit

his estate in the Hrungn Valley."

For an instant the memory and the yearning stabbed Ghrul-Captain, lands broad

beneath the Mooncatcher Mountains, castle raised in olden days when kzin fought

kzin hand-to-hand, graves of his forebears, a wilderness to rove in freedom. He

curbed himself. "My lord is wise. But I wish yet more to win back the trust, the

favor, that raises to leadership."

He had kept the title to his half-name, but been relieved of command over the

Venomous Fang that had been his. Small she was, but swift, agile, deadly. Ah-

hai, the beautiful guns and missiles, the standing among his peers and over his

crew, the tautness of close maneuver, and space, space, the stars for a hunting

ground! "More than life do I want to take a real part in the next war," and gain

repute, a whole name, the right to breed.

Narr-Souwa folded his ears a bit, unfolded them again and murmured, "So you

expect a second war with the humans?"

"Doesn't everyone, sire?"

Contempt spat. "They hope otherwise. Most of them."

Ghrul-Captain deemed it best to wait.

The Grand Lord sighed. "We need time to make ready, time. The more so after that

major setback at the ancient red sun. This later affair at the black hole was

less catastrophic, but-it has doubtless changed the minds of still more monkeys

about us. Certainly they now have important data on our Raptor-class ships."

"With deepest respect, sire," Ghrul-Captain ventured, "I submit that we should

not let them gather information we do not even possess."

"Hr-r-r, yes. That expedition they are planning, to the young sun and its doomed

planet. Well, but what intelligence we have on it inclines me to believe it will

be what they claim, purely scientific." Perforce Narr-Souwa spoke that phrase in

the closest rough, snarling approximation to English the kzin voice could

manage, for nothing quite like it existed in any language of his race.

Here was a moment to show initiative and thoughtfulness. "Monkey curiosity,

sire. I took this into account. They are-no, not so much flighty as . . .

playful. The most playful breed in known space. The oldest of them are like

kittens."

"Kittens that never grow up to realism or dignity. Vermin of the universe . . .

But how does this little new game of theirs concern us?"

"Sire, I tried to make that clear in my petition. They suppose they may learn

something they do not yet know. What that might be, they do not know either. It

may well prove of no practical value. Nevertheless, my lord, those monkeys have

a way of turning anything into a weapon if they feel the need. Anything."

And thus they beat back our invasion, Ghrul-Captain recalled, and were the first

to acquire the hyperdrive, and stuffed what they snivel is peace down our

throats. He nearly gagged.

"Granted." Narr-Souwa's eyes seemed to kindle. His whiskers lifted, his voice

dropped to a purr. "Do you imply the Supreme Councillors have not studied the

enemy's history?"

"Of course not, Grand Lord," Ghrul-Captain protested. "Never!" Boldness was

advisable, within bounds. "Still, sire, they have much to think upon, many spoor

to trace. I merely offer them an idea."

Narr-Souwa mildened and nodded. "That we should dispatch an expedition of our

own there to observe what happens."

Ghrul-Captain knew better than to reply, "Yes, sire," as though expressing

agreement with a near-equal.

"It is not a bad thought," Narr-Souwa went on, quite softly. "No, not at all bad

in itself. And-I have personally reviewed your record-you are in fact well

qualified to lead such a faring. You have had experience with technical teams.

In two situations that could have become troublesome you exercised sound

judgment. Such restraint does not come easily. Well do I know."

Rapture flowed into Ghrul-Captain, that a great one would speak personally and

at such length to him, him. "May I always hunt well and bring home a pleasing

quarry, sire!"

The tone went businesslike. "Perhaps you do not quite grasp the difficulties.

Time is short until the event. Likewise are our resources for space operations."

Encouraged, Ghrul-Captain said, "The lord will remember that my proposal goes

somewhat into specifics."

"To the extent of your knowledge when you composed it. Hr-r, the details can

quickly be settled-and must be, if we are to act. There is also another matter,

to which we must reluctantly accord importance."

"Will my lord enlighten me?" If he does, blazed through Ghrul-Captain, I'm in!

"We shall not spare a warcraft for a mission as dubious of profit as this,"

Narr-Souwa said methodically. "Besides, that would be a mistake in any event. As

I indicated earlier, because of the incidents I mentioned, those humans who

credit us with hostile intent have gained a certain advantage over those who

wish it were not so and"-sardonically-"to borrow a monkey saying I have heard,

let the wish become the father to the thought. We would be unwise to make any

fresh overt move that could strengthen those who call themselves the advocates

of preparedness. To send a combat vessel to a star they have announced they will

be visiting and will have a presence at for a long time to come-that would

probably be such a move."

"Sire, I have admitted that the Council would likely order economy of means.

Indeed, I respectfully advised it," bearing in mind the needs of a navy, still

rebuilding after its shattering defeat, which must meanwhile keep control over

the remaining kzin empire.

"We can assign a transport, no more." Yes, clearly Narr-Souwa had pulled in all

available information and tracked out all its implications beforehand. "It will

carry what auxiliary vessels may be needed, but nothing adequate for a serious

engagement. This being the case, our psychologically best gambit is to let the

humans know that we do intend to send such a scientific group. Do you seize my

meaning?"

"Yes, sire. An earnest of peacefulness, of desire to cooperate- Aargh!" Ghrul-

Captain could not hold the growl back.

Narr-Souwa took it understandingly. "Beware of otherwise natural emotions," he

warned. "Quite possibly, once they hear from us, the monkeys will provide their

ship with an armed escort. That crystallizes the necessity of quiescence. Think

of a male, spear-hunting slashtooth, who must withdraw and bide his time if a

whole pride of them comes down the trail. Later he will find one alone."

Ghrul-Captain gulped. "My lord speaks wisdom. I will not forget."

"I trust not. Your record gives reason to expect you can hold yourself and your

crew on a tight leash. It will be a test of your fitness for a new and higher

command."

Ghrul-Captain quivered. "Yes, lord, but-but we won't only make our observations

from afar, like the monkeys. We'll try-discreetly, yes, of course, lord-try to

learn what they do discover and what they infer. I think we can beat them at

their own game too, and show them what Heroes are."

"Do not take risks merely for the sake of that."

"No, lord, certainly not." It might be harder to curb his personnel than

himself, but Ghrul-Captain felt confident. "However, as my proposal notes, we

have a special craft available to us, the prototype of Sun Defier. My lord

doubtless knows that that was the tug designed and built for Werlith-

Commandant's mission to the ancient star, able to operate closer to it while

keeping the crew alive than any other vessel in known space. It was lost in the

debacle, but the engineering works has kept the preliminary model that tested

the concept. This is much smaller, of course, less powerful, but unique. The

humans have nothing like it. They prefer to orbit afar, send in robotic probes,

and not hazard their own precious pelts. Lord, a live pilot might well observe

and experience things that it would not occur to a stupid robot to try for. We

may win a prize the monkeys never realize existed."

"Yes-s, that will be good, if feasible. You must decide on the spot." Narr-Souwa

paused. "Return with whatever accomplishments are yours and give them to our

judgment. Then we shall see what further you have proven yourself worthy of. We

shall see."

"This has changed everything," said Peter Nordbo.

"Yah. Obviously," answered Robert Saxtorph. "Damn. God damn."

He had jumped from his chair on hearing the news. Now he sat back down, heavily

in spite of the light gravity. For a moment his gaze went from the man behind

the desk, outward, as if in search of help.

He found no more than beauty. The main office of Saxtorph & Nordbo lay near the

top of a building which, although on the edge of town, rose tall. One window

held sight of the roofs, towers, steeples, and traffic of Munchen. The other

gave on green countryside, scattered homes and groves, a distant range of hills

blue against a blue sky. Alpha Centauri A spilled morning radiance across it. B

was not yet visible and, currently close to maximum separation, would shine only

as the brightest of the stars. A flight of rosewings passed across a snowy

cloud. Kind of like wild geese, he thought vaguely, but sunrise-colored. Not

that I've ever seen wild geese, except on a screen. Yes, Wunderland's still a

lovely world, as alive as Earth used to be before people screwed her up.

"It would not have been a particularly profitable charter for us," said Nordbo.

Saxtorph's burly frame swung around to confront the gray-bearded face. "No," he

admitted harshly, "but Dorcas and me, how we lusted to go! What a bodacious

spectacle! And the publicity would've been worth more than the money," to the

single privately owned hyperdrive craft in known space, competing with the lines

of half a dozen governments.

"That has become worse than worthless."

"How?"

"I've had time to think this over, you know." Saxtorph and his crew had been en

route from Jinx with a load of organics cheaper to grow there and haul here than

to synthesize. Centaurian industry hadn't fully recovered from the long kzin

occupation. Maybe-his mind wandered again for a second-it never would, but

concentrate instead on whole new kinds of enterprise. Which ought to leave room

for Rover to ply her trade.

But he didn't want her always to be just a tramp freighter. She'd been more.

He'd left with his head full of the wonderful discovery the astronomers had

made, the fact that an expedition to go for a close look was being organized as

fast as possible, and the near-promise that his ship would carry it. She'd

proven she could survive pretty terrible surprises, she'd have no other

commitments, and Nordbo was closing the deal. It helped that the headquarters of

the Interworld Space Commission was handy, right in this same system; he'd

gotten on friendly terms with key bureaucrats.

If only the engineers had miniaturized hyperwave transmitters enough that a ship

could hold one, Saxtorph thought, not for the first time. Then: What'd have been

the use? I'd've gotten the bad news sooner, that's all.

"In der Tat," Nordbo went on, briefly reverting to Wunderland's chief language,

"I saw at once that the ISC would forbid you to go, and forestalled them by

offering to cancel the contract myself. It was the responsible thing to do,

anyway."

"Are you sure?" Saxtorph challenged almost involuntarily.

"Yes. You will be too, once you've swallowed your disappointment." Nordbo

sighed. "Robert, we agreed when I became your partner, Rover will steer clear of

any volume of space where there's a significant chance of your encountering

kzinti. You destroyed their base at the ancient star and uncovered the secret

that they now have the hyperdrive. You killed a naval crew of theirs at the

black hole-"

"Self-defense," Saxtorph snapped. "Both times, it was them or us, and we didn't

start the fracas. The second time, it was Tyra also."

"You needn't tell me."

Saxtorph's massive shoulders slumped a bit. "Sorry. I got carried away. . . .

Yah. Aside from the few of them amongst us, probably every kzin alive would

cheerfully die to collect my scalp." He straightened. "But, hey, do they have to

know it's Rover? Change the ID code, disguise the body lines, give her a new

paint job."

Nordbo smiled wryly. "Forever the optimist, aren't you? No, much too risky. We'd

certainly lose our insurance."

"Uh-huh," Saxtorph must agree. "Seeing as how they'd be in a tiny danger of

having to pay up."

"The danger would not be tiny, and it would be to you and yours, Robert."

Dorcas, Saxtorph thought. Her, and everything we've shared all these years, and

the kids we still hope to have someday. Not to mention Kam, Carita, and Buck.

And any passengers.

"The kzinti say their expedition will be strictly scientific, like ours,

employing simply a transport and a few auxiliaries," Nordbo continued. "But

everybody knows that will be a naval transport with at least some armament. If

they learned Rover had come, as they might very well- No, it would be too much

to expect of kzinti, not to attack."

Saxtorph surrendered. "Okay. Okay. You've gotten through this thick skull of

mine. You're right." He rallied his spirit. "What'll we do instead?"

Nordbo smiled afresh, warmly. "The coin has a bright side. Because I saved the

ISC embarrassment, I was able to drive a bargain. They naturally prefer our

names never be associated with this. So . . . we keep silence. In return, we

have a commission to bring several special cargoes to the puppeteers' tradepoint

and distribute the exchange goods to four different human planets."

Joy flared. "Holy Christ! Clear to there!"

"And well paid. With a clause that will allow us to develop the route further

for ourselves if we choose and the puppeteers are willing."

"Pete," Saxtorph declared, "I take every hard thought about you back. I

apologize, I heap sthondat dung on my head, I adore. You're flat-out a genius."

A parallel gladness: How grandly this guy's gotten over his decades of exile, a

kzin prisoner, and the death of his son. Even though I got the reasons for it

made an official secret, he knew, he knows. He threw himself into our

partnership to escape. Oh, he did a lot more than furnish some capital we badly

needed, he hadn't lost his skill at handling people either, but it was an

escape. In the three years since, however- He and his new wife seem like being

about as happy as Dorcas and me. And now he's wangled this for us.

"Aw, shucks," said Nordbo. "Isn't that your American expression?"

"Your triumph calls for a drink, followed by unbridled celebration." And,

Saxtorph thought, what happens at the cannibal star will be fun to watch when

the databases arrive home. We'll've been having real-time adventures just as

much fun, or maybe more.

He took forth his pipe and tobacco pouch. "First, though, fill me in, will you?

Who's going to carry the mission?"

"I helped arrange that too," Nordbo told him. "A little reshifting of schedules

made the Freuchen available."

"Oh, fine. She is mainly for exploration-done good work in the past . . . A tad

crowded, maybe, for an expedition like this, with the tonne of gear I imagine

they'll want to take."

"They'll have ample extra room. A naval vessel will escort them."

Saxtorph grinned. "Well, well. The ISC's being smart for a change. Nothing

'provocative,' no, never; but the kitty-cats won't be tempted to touch off an

'incident' and claim afterward it was our side's fault."

Nordbo nodded. "That's the unspoken idea. Nobody wants a fight, myself least."

"The Freuchen . . . Yah, the establishment, scientists and politicians both, owe

us one, over and above the puppeteer contract. They owe you, rather."

Nordbo gave his friend a steady look. "I cashed in that part of it. Which is why

I'm especially relieved by their having an escort."

"Hey?"

"Tyra's going along."

"Huh?"

"She was after me about it from the first. A writer by trade, and what a story

to tell! I managed to make her assignment part of the bargain, and didn't

suppose you would object. Not but what they won't get their money's worth.

She'll make the public love that science."

"Well, yes, she always was a venturesome sort. Not strange, seeing she's your

daughter." And can wind you around her finger, Saxtorph said silently. As she

damn near did me, till she decided not to finish the job. I've never said

anything to you or anybody. Nor did I stay regretful. Dorcas and me do belong

together.

He knew how suddenly seriousness could grab hold of the other man. Nordbo

generally kept his deepest feelings to himself. But he and Saxtorph had grown

close, and from time to time everybody needs somebody who will listen.

"Robert, she's been unhappy. She doesn't let on, she wouldn't, but I can tell. I

don't know why. Yes, she's grieved for Ib, side by side with me, but-but that's

past and done with. It isn't like her to brood. Is it?" He had missed out on the

years when she grew up.

Did our not-quite-affair really hurt her so badly? wondered Saxtorph. I sure

never thought that, seeing how she behaved. Afterward-well, friendly when we've

met, of course, but in the nature of the case that hasn't been often.

What can I do except wish her everything good?

"No, her style is to get on with her life."

Nordbo steadied. "She's been doing so. It's simply that I felt her heart wasn't

altogether in it. Now, I do believe, this prospect, this amazement to see and

take part in, I think it's healing her."

Having climbed high enough up the complex and changeable Alpha Centaurian

gravity well, the lancer Samurai slipped into hyperspace. Freuchen followed

seventy-two hours later. The naval ship was to reach destination first and make

sure of security before the civilians appeared.

Although no passenger liner, Freuchen often made long voyages, and long stays at

the far ends of them, which might well involve hardship and danger. Facilities

for privacy, recreation, and exercise were not a luxury but a necessity. A

couple of watchcycles after leaving 3-space, Tyra Nordbo and Craig Raden were in

the gymnasium playing recoil ball.

That game takes strength and wind as well as speed and agility. This being a

Wunderland vessel crewed mostly by Wunderlanders, her gravity polarizers

maintained the interior weight to which they were accustomed. Nevertheless the

Earthman found himself hard challenged. The match ended with score tied and both

breathing from the bottoms of their lungs, sweat agleam and animal-odorous on

their skins.

"Whoof!" Raden laughed. "Congratulations and thanks. You gave me a good one."

"The same to you," Tyra answered. Her tone was warmer toward him than hitherto.

It had been fun. And, she must admit to herself, the sight of him was fun too-

medium-tall, slim and supple but well-muscled, features Roman-nosed and regular,

with bright hazel eyes, beneath wavy brown hair. That doesn't mean I have to

fall over you-or under you, said defensiveness.

"Frankly, I didn't expect it from a person of your origins."

Then why did you invite me to play? she flared inwardly. An approach? Likely.

They say you're quite a tomcat. "We're healthy," she snapped.

"Oh, absolutely. Normal adaptation to a lower gravity. No offense intended,

please believe." Raden shook his head and clicked his tongue. "Foolish of me. I

should have given more thought to what I saw, besides enjoying the view."

He made no pretense of doing otherwise. Tyra's height equaled his, which was not

surprising in a Wunderlander woman, but damp T-shirt and shorts clung to a

figure as full and robust as that of any Earthling female in good condition.

Flaxen hair in a pageboy cut framed a face strong-boned and blunt, where little

save a few fine lines at the blue eyes hinted at an age of about forty

terrestrial years, perhaps three more than his. "You'd be unusually athletic on

any planet," he added.

She shrugged. "I'm not obsessed with aerobics. I just enjoy some activities."

"Which especially, if I may ask?"

"Swimming, wingsailing, hiking, mountaineering, that sort of thing."

"Tastes we share, then. The results do come in useful occasionally, don't you

agree? I understand you too have spent a fair amount of time on different

worlds, and not merely in their tourist resorts."

"My work. Gathering material, getting ideas." He's pushing familiarity pretty

fast, isn't he? "You're an astrophysicist." Put him in his place. Imply that his

travels were a gadding about.

Raden's smile faded, his voice went amicably earnest. "Look here, Fräulein

Nordbo, may I suggest we become better acquainted? We've a rather long haul

before us, and then a time about which we can predict nothing other than that it

will be busy, till we've done whatever we can. Let's go as friends."

"Have I seemed unfriendly?" she asked with caution.

"No, no. A bit aloof, perhaps."

"We're barely into the voyage."

"Why not start it on the right foot? Suppose after we've washed and changed

clothes, we meet in the wardroom. I'd be honored to stand you a drink or two

before dinner."

"Honored? You?" She spoke coldly, to make clear that she didn't like being

patronized.

He caught on at once. "I'm sorry. I truly am. What I wanted to say was

'delighted,' but I was afraid of seeming too forward. You're known as a

formidable sort."

That's hard to resist, Tyra confessed. Damn him, he can turn on the charm like a

light. Anyhow, it's true, we need to become comrades, all of us on board.

There's unknownness waiting yonder, and kzinti.

"Not intentionally." She didn't have to force her smile. "Thank you, I'd be

delighted myself. In half an hour?"

Command and competence were as vital as in any spacecraft, but an explorer did

best without social distinctions between ranks off duty. The wardroom was open

to anyone who wanted sociability. Nobody chanced to be present but steward

Marcus Hauptmann and planetologist Kees Verwoort, pushing chessmen. Already at

ease with Tyra, they nodded as she came in. Nattily attired, Raden jumped from a

chair and strode to meet her. "Ah, jolly good," he said. "What would you like?"

"Draft Solborg." She sat down at the little table where he had been. Several

more were spaced around the room with their chairs, plus a few loungers.

Underneath each was the magnetic inductor that would secure it to the deck in

case of untoward acceleration or free fall.

"Forthcoming. Hm, not too early in the daywatch for a glass of wine. They've

shipped a reasonably decent dry Riesling." Raden got them from the dispenser,

which debited his personal ration, and brought them over. He took his place

opposite her and lifted his goblet. "Skaal."

So he's remembered, Tyra thought, or he's taken the trouble to find out, things

about me like my hailing from Skogarna, and that this is our toast there instead

of "Prosit."

She didn't know how to feel about that. Well, pay him in kind. "Here's how," she

responded.

Glasyl clinked against stein. The beer was a welcome tartness in mouth and

throat.

"Ah-ha. Then you know I'm American, Fräulein Nordbo?" Raden said genially. "Most

people off Earth seem under the impression I'm a Brit."

"Next time I'll say 'Cheers' if you prefer." Was she parrying something?

He laughed. "Touché! Yes, I admit to certain affectations. And I did study for a

while at Cambridge." He sipped and went on in a philosophical tone. "Such

details are apt to look vanishingly small across a few light-years, aren't they?

Consider how societies diverged when only subluminal transit was available.

They've not had much time or opportunity thus far to catch up, have they? Rather

amazing, how knowledgeable you are."

Is he showing off his serious, intellectual side? wondered Tyra. Or do quantum

jumps come naturally to him? "No surprise, Dr. Raden. Writers collect oddments

like glitterfowl. You know that."

"Well, yes, I am a writer too, of sorts. But secondarily. Not a rival of yours

on this mission or, I hope, ever."

"I've seen your popular science works, those of them that have reached us, and

your 'Multiverse' show." Be honest, she told herself. "I've enjoyed them, in

fact admired them."

"Thank you. I look forward to seeing what you've done."

"Nothing like yours. Mainly travel pieces, some assorted journalism, some

fiction, a couple of things for children."

"I'll doubtless write up this expedition and its findings myself, elsewhere than

in the scientific databases. But I don't imagine I'll overlap what you do in the

least."

And my audience won't be ten percent of yours, even if my accounts get

distribution on Earth, Tyra realized. The famous young scientist, popularizer,

lecturer, sportsman, yes, licensed spaceboat pilot and bronze medalist in the

Saturnian Ring Run-all very well publicized-showman- Unfair? Am I being nasty

and jealous? Or just shy? I'm not sure. I'm not used to either of those

feelings.

"I have in mind telling about the people with us and what happens to them

personally," she said. "But you will do that too, along with explaining the

discoveries, same as always, won't you?"

"Mostly incidentally, trying to get across that science isn't a revelation

handed down from on high, it's something that intelligent creatures do. You'll

concentrate on the human story. We are not in competition. We may well prove to

be in cooperation."

"M-m, maybe. You're kind to say so, Dr. Raden."

"Please," he replied gently, "must we continue formal? I'm Craig to my friends."

Impulse grabbed Tyra. "And I'm not properly 'Fräulein.' I've resumed my family

name, but I was married twice."

His gaze searched her. "To what kind of man, that they'd give up one like you?"

She flushed, but stiffened less than she probably should have. "Things simply

didn't work out. If I'm not mistaken, you've had similar experiences."

"True. And I'm not self-righteous about them, either . . . Tyra." Quickly: "Yes,

I'm trying to cultivate your acquaintance, not entirely for its own sake. I hope

we can talk about your adventures at the black hole."

"That was Captain Saxtorph's department," she demurred. "I was hardly more than

a passenger."

"Forgive me, but according to what I've gathered, you're overly modest. You had

a great deal to do with what went on." Again quickly: "Although you've wanted

your part in it de-emphasized as much as possible. Aristocratic reserve?"

As little as possible about Ib- She put down the pain. "Wunderland doesn't have

aristocrats any longer."

"Still, the heritage, the pride . . . This very ship bears the name of your

clan. . . . Well, I certainly don't mean to intrude. If ever I ask anything, or

say anything, you don't like, please let me know. I swear to respect your

privacy."

Disarmed, she blurted, "What'll be left to talk about, then, that you can't have

retrieved from public databases?"

"Endlessly much. You and your companions met something unique in our knowledge-a

mini black hole, and the artifact the tnuctipun built around it, billions of

years ago. . . . Gone, now, gone. Surely you see what this means to me and every

astrophysicist, cosmologist, archeologist, anybody who's ever looked at the

stars and wondered."

"I only had glimpses and heard others rattle off numbers they'd taken from their

instruments."

"I think you observed more, perhaps more than you know. At any rate, I'll wager

your story of it is vivid."

Tyra could not but smile. It was as if his enthusiasm smoothed away every

lingering hurt and reopened her eyes to wonder. "You flatter me."

He turned playful. "I'm good at that. Especially when it's sincere."

She laughed. "We'll have time enough under way."

"Yes, indeed. I won't be champing at the bit as impatiently as I expected. Thank

you, Tyra."

He led the conversation on to undisturbing reminiscences, anecdotes, jokes, a

cheerful hour.

An alert yowled. Ghrul-Captain sprang from his lair, down a passage and up a

companionway to the main control chamber. He shoved aside the watchkeeper, a

kzin currently known as Sub-officer. "Sire," the underling told him, "the optics

and nucleonics register a spacecraft approaching."

"What else would it be?" Ghrul-Captain snarled. "Do you take me for a sthondat?"

"No, sire, of course not-"

"Silence till you have something worth saying, if ever." Ghrul-Captain crouched

into the central command seat.

The other drew back, submissive but poised. Bristling whiskers, broadened

pupils, and half-folded ears showed anger. It was purely reflexive, not directed

at his superior. This was what happened to one of his standing, like harsh

weather on a planet. He may have counted himself lucky not to be punished.

Actually, while Ghrul-Captain had needed to vent some wrath, he could not afford

to disable personnel for anything less than outright insubordination. The Strong

Runner was undercrewed, underweaponed, alone. And his instruments were

identifying the stranger as a human warship.

For a heartbeat he glared at the scene in the viewscreen. The target sun was a

small disc, its luminance selectively dulled till an extravagant corona was eye-

visible. Undimmed, a big world much farther out shone brighter than the true

stars. They sprawled in strange constellations-seen at more than thirty light-

years from the Father Sun and well off the galactic plane. The Ice River itself

looked slightly different, against the background blackness of space.

His gaze focused on the meters and readouts before him, and then on the image a

computer program was constructing. He had been taught to know that lean shape,

those rakish lines of gun turrets and launch tubes. A lancer, a light naval

vessel but easily able to annihilate this wretched carrier. It was about five

million kilometers off, adjusting its vectors with an acceleration he could

merely envy. A proper warcraft would have spotted it immediately when it emerged

from hyperspace, wherever in this system that had been. Surely it had picked him

up then, and set about reducing the gap between.

Ghrul-Captain forced steadiness on himself, as he might have donned a pressure

suit too tight for him. He would have to communicate with the monkeys and offer

them no threat. The necessity was foul in his mouth. He could have voice-ordered

a beam in the standard band to lock on; instead, his claw stabbed the manual

board.

They were obviously awaiting it yonder. In some thirty interminable seconds, the

time for electromagnetic waves to go back and forth, his comboard lighted up. He

sent a "Ready" signal-make them introduce themselves to him-and activated the

translator program.

The screen came to life with a human face. Those always suggested to him the

faces of flayed corpses. "United Nations Navy unit Samurai calling kzin vessel,"

it gabbled, while the translator gave forth decent growls and hisses. "Request

conference with your commanding officer."

"I am he," Ghrul-Captain answered. "I will speak to none but your own master."

They could kill him, but they could not make him lower himself.

In the time lag he felt a ventilator breeze stir his hair. It bore a sharp tinge

of ozone. But no cleansing thunderstorm was going to break. Not now. Not yet.

The scan switched to another den and another face, dark brown. From its delicate

lines and glabrous cheeks he decided it belonged to a female. Ruch! Still, human

females were supposed to have as much consciousness as the males, and often held

important positions. He must accept the perverted fact and cope with it.

"Captain Indira Lal Bihari, commanding UNN Samurai," she was saying. "Our

intentions are peaceful. We trust they can remain so."

"Ghrul-Captain, master of Strong Runner." He would volunteer no more. If that

piqued her, and if he could know it did, he would have won a tiny satisfaction.

Full lips drew back, upward. Ghrul-Captain had studied many views of human faces

but never learned to tell whether a baring of teeth meant amusement,

conciliation, or anger. "Apparently you prefer that I take the initiative. Very

well. Your people announced they would send an expedition here like us. We were

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Man-KzinWarsIXcreatedbyLarryNivenCopyright(c)2002THEMAN-KZINWARSSERIESCreatedbyLarryNivenTheMan-KzinWarsMan-KzinWarsIIMan-KzinWarsIIIMan-KzinWarsIVMan-KzinWarsVMan-KzinWarsVIMan-KzinWarsVIIChoosingNames:Man-KzinWarsVIIIMan-KzinWarsIXTheBestofAllPossibleWarsPELEPoulAnderson1Closetonoon,theFatherSunba...

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Larry Niven - Man-Kzin Wars IX

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