Chapter 19
(2438 A.D.)
It was very difficult for Hwass-Hwasschoaw to manage the rescue from W’kkai. The signals sent from his UNSN-supplied beamer to the UNSN patrol vessel had to be masked by the normal electromagnetic radiation from W’kkai. He had his beamer set up on a mountain in his hunting range among the cluttered equipment of an amateur astronomical observatory. Still he dared not fire it at a low angle.
Worse, he had to receive redundantly generated signals broadcast by the UNSN along the vector of an interstellar radio source. It was no easy task to clean away the camouflaging noise from the weak carrier.
Then each of the outgoing messages had to be acknowledged by the UNSN and each incoming message had to be acknowledged by a burst from W’kkai. Tedious.
His political skills were taxed. He had to make judicious use of the Patriarch’s Eye, its amateur astronomers, its spies among the priests and government and navy. He had to seduce loyal warriors to arrange safe transportation to the singularity boundary. If it had been just himself and Grraf-Nig, there would have been no problems. But he also had to smuggle out his bait, the Nora-beast and her six whelps.
A crippled kzin, whose two sons had been killed years ago in combat with Si-Kish, designed Hwass a container cleverly outfitted for human hibernation. Grraf-Nig, their expert on human physiology, was consulted. More arguments. More snarling. But they had to get it right. There could be no tricks here, if Hwass did not deliver the Nora beast alive, he knew there would be no transportation to Kzin; indeed, the Yankee-beast would then try to kill him. There was no sense in provoking premature suspicion.
Endless petty knots had to be curried from the plan’s fur. Originally Hwass hoped that many years of W’kkai observations could be smuggled past W’kkai and human eyes inside the “diplomatic” pouch Interworld Space Commissioner Markham had given him at Tiamat. The contents of the pouch were, after all, intended for Kzin. But in one of his messages the Clandeboye-animal instructed him to destroy the old pouch. A duplicate would be supplied and delivered to him as he left the UNSN vessel at Kzin. So much for that. Interstellar mail was too precious to allow time for argument with monkeys.
Outlook spawned the biggest carcass of contention in this adventure. Hwass was a bold strategist, willing to take high risks because of his great skill and fleet feet. Grraf-Nig was by nature a coward. He did not like risks. Unfortunately he was essential to any plan to capture Clandeboye’s mercy ship. Grraf-Nig knew how to pilot a hyperdrive vessel; Hwass did not. Grraf-Nig understood hypershunt construction; Hwass did not. Grraf-Nig knew the poisons that would destroy a monkey mind; Hwass did not.
They snarled and yowled at each other over the details of their planned theft but the coward always prevailed because he knew his worth. Hwass tried importing exotic animals for their hunts. He tried playing scent-ball with this eater-of-grass on the local meadows-and letting him win. No amount of flattery penetrated this coward’s fur. Exasperating. Hwass had to workout his rage during the dinner chases.
It was fifteen light-years from W’kkai to Kzin. That distance couldn’t be covered in one hyperspace jump. Hwass craved to release the nerve gas after the first jump, killing the crew instantly, then to broadcast false hyperwave distress signals. If the UNSN suspected a lethal drive malfunction, blame would not fall upon Kzin.
Grraf-Nig, in his cowardly mien, argued that some unforeseen event might strand them-losing both the ship and whatever service they could provide the Patriarch. Timidly he pleaded that the gas be released after they had reached Kzin, after the exchange of slave for warrior had been completed. Then if bad luck befell them, Grraf-Nig’s precious brain (and neck) would have survived.
Dealing with this robber-of-names filled Hwass’s stomach with rotten meat. His partner did not understand the strategic importance of a gas that could kill a human crew instantly without touching any kzinti on board. In the forest Hwass practiced twisting the bark off trees with his bare hands. Boulders came apart when he smashed them against stony outcrops. Rodents were squashed to a pulp in his grip.
But Grraf-Nig remained adamant: if the gas did its job at Kzin, warriors could board the hypership, and take it, no one the wiser; if the gas failed, and the man-beasts became enraged, the whole of the Kzin fleet would be there, alert and ready to protect Kzin-home. It had already been proved that a human fleet could not take a major system of the Patriarchy. All the advantages were with the defense. And it was ninety days by hyperdrive from Man-sun to Kzin. Kzinti were adapted to slow supply lines; humans were not.
Grraf-Nig had his own way of handling his rage at the wasted time invested in argument with his liver-driven co-conspirator. He was absolutely sure that, unarmed, he could kill Hwass probably quickly. His instructor in Heroic Combat and name-sake, Grraf-Hromfi of the Black Pride, had given him years of personal training-and in the end had trusted the martial training of his Sons to Grraf-Nig. It was not strength that counted in combat. But killing Hwass would strand him on W’kkai.
He took out his anger in controlled combat-by exercising the rules of tournament. He had a student. Monkeyshine liked to fight. It gave the outcast kzin away to use up his rage and learn to control it at the same time. The old trainer-of-slaves in him was still curious about the limits of slaves. His ears wiggled to see the tiny boy charge him with a full-faced grin.
Part of Grraf-Nig was still furious about the fate of his own male kits. He had daughters but the sons were dead, murdered, probably devoured, by the scarless kzin who had taken over his harem. Monkeyshine was probably the only son he’d ever have. Was there any harm in teaching him a few fancy tricks? The little slave would be dead himself soon enough. He would die for the Patriarch. Sometimes fathers had to sacrifice their Sons for the triumph of the Patriarchy.
It was a day of heavy wind. The final batch of nerve gas was being synthesized under less than ideal conditions. There was no threat to kzinti but Grraf-Nig took the whole family of man-beasts upwind for a picnic to keep them out of possible danger. Almost tenderly he spent the time with Monkeyshine in the dry orange grass of the field, teaching him how to sidestep an oncoming blow, then reverse-kick for a deadly riposte.
In time the whole operation was in place. A UNSN vessel arrived to patrol the singularity-a flea of a ship that aroused no passionate feeling on W’kkai. Friends of the Eye were ready with a small kzin corvette. Its captain requested-and was given-the mission to shadow the new ghostship. His cargo of human slaves were first tranquilized (while sleeping) and each administered a sealed suppository of nerve gas. They were drugged with the metabolic retardants Grraf-Nig had developed during those long gone days when an adequate supply of man- beast experimental animals were coming to him from the Wunderland orphanages. Suspended, the slaves were stored in their specialized container and smuggled to the spaceport.
To Grraf-Nig’s immense relief, the enterprise went smoothly. There was no wild chase by Si-Kish’s elite units. Hwass was a superb organizer-just as he boasted-a hunter who could pass silently over twigs in the driest of summers. Even the transfer from W’kkai corvette to UNSN flea was a model of smooth cooperation. Only the mistrust made it uncomfortable. Grraf-Nig, allergic to prisons, was outraged at their prisoner status. Hwass, who had been caged before by Major Yankee Clandeboye, delighted in his associate’s discomfort. He knew how to use the formidable weaponry afforded by the Mocking Tense of the Hero’s Tongue. A murderous Grraf-Nig decided that it was fortunate for Hwass that there were two cages.
They were in no danger. As arranged by Hwass, they were allowed a “dead-kzin” switch; the death of a kzin would trigger the explosive death of the slaves. It amused Grraf-Nig that Hwass hadn’t counted on a “dead-man” switch rigged by the efficient Captain Jay Mazzetta. If any of the slaves died, the UNSN’s kzinti guests would be administered a lethal injection. Grraf-Nig wiggled his ears in slow fan-like waves, which was his own way of retaliatory mocking. The gesture plainly said, “I told you so!”- Hwass’s original plan to take over the UNSN’s vessel would not have worked.
It was a tense journey. Three humans; two kzin; seven sleeping slaves. It lasted forty-five days. The time wasn’t altogether unproductive. Yankee taught his kzinti gin rummy. Since they had no common currency, the winnings were paid off in ethnic jokes. The Hero’s Tongue is the richest language for insults in Known Space and
