Man-Kzin Wars IV Larry Niven (ink ebook reader .txt) 📖

“I am glad that it amuses my Lord to wander among the fairy tale shelves of the Munchen library.” Why am I goading him? Trainer-of-Slaves was terrified by the ferocity he had unleashed in his mentor who was now clearly angry as well as insane.

Hromfi was circling Trainer, growling out his words, slowly, threateningly. “They found this horror. They released him out of monkey curiosity and he took over the minds of all the monkey vassals within range. They’d still be in thrall—but ‘monkey-daffy; monkey lucky.’ They tricked him back into his stasis suit and turned it on. And then do you know what those hollow-brains did? They put him in a museum. Their silver Sea Statue.”

Grraf-Hromfi spun from the confrontation to calm himself. He dropped into one of the command chairs and growled and spat out his rage at the instrument panels. Then he turned over his shoulder and spoke to Trainer-of-Slaves again.

“You speak to me of that superluminal drive of yours. Where do you think it came from? You’ve seen monkey technology. You destroyed their pitiful ramscoop. You’ve refitted their quaint torchships with gravitics. You’ve seen their weapons. Could they have created a superluminal driver for spaceships? Not likely. Impossible. But from evidence on a dozen worlds, students of the ancient mysteries suspect that the Slavers could travel faster than light.

“We are confronted with a W’kkai puzzle. And I have put it together with no protrusions. The monkeys have released their Sea Statue again. The ultimate weapon against the Patriarchy. It was this ancient beast who must have given them their superluminal ships and he is here now, in the Serpent’s Swarm, because I felt his mind and my officers are with me because they, too, felt that mind which would make slaves of kzinkind! If you hadn’t been asleep, you too would believe!”

Trainer-of-Slaves was always awed by Grraf-Hromfi’s ability to convince. Still it was foolish to take as true a tale told five lifetimes ago by the member of a race whose individuals were known to lie at every opportunity. Indeed! One eye and green scales!

“Sire! I am here to request permission to take the superluminal drive unit to Kzin-home.”

Grraf-Hromfi rose from his chair. He walked over to Trainer-of-Slaves. His nose came to Trainer’s forehead and his shoulders were broader. “Permission denied. Do you think you’ll get anywhere if we fail to destroy this menace? His mind will pluck you right out of the sky and bring you whimpering to his feet.”

The fear was overpowering. Never in his life had Trainer-of-Slaves defied anyone, not his father, Chiirr-Nig, not Puller-of-Noses, not Jotok-Tender, not his friend, Ssis-Captain. He was universally sweet-tempered with his military associates. He had always accommodated Grraf-Hromfi’s wishes, and the wish of every officer who held authority above him. His inclination now was to flatter Grraf-Hromfi into letting him disappear into interstellar space with the wreck of the Shark.

“Sire! In your great wisdom you have advocated thinking before leaping…”

Grraf-Hromfi slashed this impudent warrior’s vest through to the flesh of his chest beneath. “Do you think that I would let you flee from a battle, Eater-of-Grass? Only Heroes who are eager to die in battle can carry the burden of flight.” He gestured to two tall kzin guards. “I cannot kill this coward. Take him back to the Bitch and put him in hibernation. He’ll die there in battle, and if we survive … I’ll deal with him then.”

The Lord Commander of the Black Pride was desperate to eliminate the smell of abject fear from his command room.

CHAPTER 23

(2420 A.D.)

Long-Reach was in a panic argument with himselves. The ship was no longer a safe place. Mellow-Yellow was in danger. Mellow-Yellow was in hibernation. Kzin warriors were talking about slashing the throat of Mellow-Yellow for cowardice. They were rough with him when they put him away. After the battle they would take him out and kill him. Joker had heard them say so while he was relining the gravity walks. Long Reach felt grief in the tips of his thumb-fingers. No more card games. No more currying that fine pelt.

He felt an unexplainable desolation.

Fourteen Jotoki were directly bonded to Mellow-Yellow. In the slave quarters these fourteen bundled together, avoiding conversation even with Jotoki who were bonded to other kzin. Arms entwined, they chattered and moaned and sifted thoughts among their brains. The need to help Mellow-Yellow was unsettling and painful because they could not help him. Disoriented, they set about their tasks mechanically, then returned to the slave quarters to share their agony.

Long-Reach knew that the man-beasts had to be fed, but while he went through the motions he was remembering another such terrifying time of threat—long ago on another world. Simpler times. Only one kzin had been menacing Mellow-Yellow then, not a ship full. The challenge had taken place in the birth-haven of Long-Reach among the trees and swamps and caverns that had nurtured himselves during the growing-up and were almost alive enough to come to his aid when he needed to call upon a glen or ridge between hillbanks. The very land had helped him kill that other kzin.

Now there were only the cold corridors of a ship and pipes and snaking power lines and catwalks and patrolling warriors. Killing one kzin to save his master had been the most troubling horror of his life. To kill a whole shipload was unthinkable, enough to make his arms disconnect from each other and send him stumbling in an uncoordinated scramble of arm-legs.

Nevertheless, that is what he, himselves, was thinking.

* * *

Lieutenant Argamentine knew that her routine had been upset. That bizarre kzin who was called Mellow-Yellow by his five-armed followers disappeared to be replaced by a taciturn kzin who was larger and redder, whose only function seemed to be that of interrogator. He took her from her cage, never very gently, never so roughly that he hurt her. Together they rode a capsule to his tiny torture chamber.