Man-Kzin Wars XII Larry Niven (list of ebook readers .TXT) 📖

again, cremating the smallest kzin with him. The smoke from the two bodies drifted away, its dispersing particles to mingle above the treetops with the smoke of the burning transport.

String

Hal Colebatch and Matthew Joseph Harrington

2895 CE

"This will be a change from your last assignment for us," the puppeteer said. The grizzled ARM general apparently standing beside it nodded agreement. Given modern medical techniques, not even counting whatever the ARM kept for themselves, the gray had to be pure theater, to establish dominance via human respect for elders. It wasn't that effective—there were too many elders these days.

"It had better be," said Richard Guthlac. "The last was not something we'd like to repeat."

"You did well enough then, though your companion did better," it replied. "A great menace was destroyed. That is one reason you have been chosen again. That and the fact Charrgh-Captain asked for you."

Richard and Gay exchanged eloquent looks. Charrgh-Captain had been the Patriarchy observer assigned to accompany their small human-Wunderkzin team to the last stasis box to be found.

"He evidently appreciates your resourcefulness," the puppeteer went on. "More, by the terms of the treaty they are only obliged to accept one observer, but he said you were a mated team. Unasked concessions like that from a kzin of the Patriarchy, an officer very much of the old school, are too rare to be lightly set aside."

Richard and Gay nodded. They and Charrgh-Captain had been through a memorable time together.

"This time," the general said, "it's been the kzinti's turn to find a stasis box. You will be the human observers attached to a kzinti expedition.

"Of course you don't have to go," he went on. "But the pay will be good."

"For sharing a ship with a crew of kzinti of the Patriarchy? It had better be!" Richard exclaimed.

"For sharing a ship with a crew of kzinti, and for facing a possibly very dangerous unknown at the end of it. But you know that better than I can tell you.

"Anyway," said the general, "it appears the kzinti are abiding by the treaty like good little kitties. They have informed us of the discovery, have given you time to join them, and, of course, have agreed that you will have diplomatic status and immunity. Your reserve ranks will also be respected, so you will be entitled to fighters' privileges, though I hope it won't be necessary for you to invoke them.

"The box will be opened where it is, not taken to Kzin-aga. In some ways that has problems, but both sides insisted on it, neither trusting the other, and it's written in. High Admiral Zzarrk-Skrull has given his Name as his Word that the box has not been surreptitiously opened already and then closed again for our benefit. I don't need to tell you to try discreetly to confirm that if you can," he said, telling them anyway. ARMs. "But I think the kzinti are genuinely wary about bringing home stasis boxes to open, and in this case I think their paranoia is justified—pretty much everybody's had problems in that direction in the past, as you probably know. There's no reason why it shouldn't all go according to the protocols."

"Charrgh-Captain," said the puppeteer—its pronunciation of the kzinti Name was as perfect as its contralto Interworld—"has assured us that he is aware of human requirements and comforts. You will have your own cabin and kitchen."

"I don't suppose the job includes having bombs implanted in us in case the box turns out to hold something really dangerous?" asked Richard.

"Good heavens! How do you get such terrible ideas?" said the puppeteer convincingly.

"Working with ARMs. They'll be doing a full scan on us, huh?" he asked the general.

The puppeteer looked itself in the eyes. The general said nothing, and pointedly looked at Gay.

"How big is this stasis box?" asked Gay, very politely.

"Large, but much smaller than the last one you investigated. Too small for there to be anything, ah, comparable inside.—I don't think the kzinti really mind that either.—It's quite a long trip, but not so long that you'll have to go into coldsleep again. Twenty-five light-years. A matter of about eighty days each way, counting in STL acceleration and deceleration time. The actual retrieval and opening of the box shouldn't take long."

"And the pay will be?"

The general named a figure.

"That's hard to refuse," said Richard. "We could always do with more capital."

"Yes, I'd heard you'd taken up farming. But land's still cheap on Wunderland, isn't it?"

"Yes, but machines aren't. Farming needs sophisticated robotics to be competitive. Well, we'll think about it."

"Don't think too long," said the general. "Others would jump at the chance—making a name for themselves, a big hatful of stars in the bank."

"Do tell. How many others are there in this unruly mob of volunteers? Within a factor of two, say?"

"Humans are brave," said the puppeteer. "And curious. Many would jump at the opportunity."

"But you wouldn't? You don't feel like going yourself, by any chance?" Richard asked innocently. If he had not known the puppeteer's heads contained no brains, its brain—an extremely large one—being located under a reinforced bony hump between its shoulders, he might have sworn a look of horror crossed the vapid faces. Certainly the creature flinched, and seemed to stop itself going into a crouch only with a great effort of will.

Richard felt a faint stab of guilt. Teasing a puppeteer about danger was too easy to be any achievement. Still, if the puppeteers were extremely averse to risking their own necks, they seemed to have few qualms about having others risk theirs. He waved a hand in apology and reassurance. This puppeteer had, by the standards of its kind, done a very brave thing by walking abroad on Wunderland at all, even if this was only a hologram of it. It would have to be barking mad, of course, which would make so much courage easier for it. All sane puppeteers had fled Known Space long before.

"There weren't many qualified volunteers," the general said, oblivious to the