reconnaissance ship, on a mission like this the only thing they can be after is strategic intelligence. How better to gather it than out of the minds of the planners?”
'Good point, Captain. Thank you for your time.' Long stood up, ending the interview. Mace was somewhat disconcerted – she'd just become comfortable with the rapid questions and answers. She wondered if his abruptness was an interrogator's reflex, keeping his subject off-balance, or simply a specialist's indifference to someone who could provide no more clues.
'Glad to help, Major.' She started to leave, then turned back. 'Our prisoner, what's going to happen to him now?”
Long hesitated slightly before answering. 'I'll interview him, try to establish a rapport and learn as much as possible. How much that is depends on the individual. Eventually they either collapse from confinement or refuse to go any further. At that point we'll begin sleep and sensory deprivation. As his resistance builds up we'll start introducing hypnotics. It's a proven technique.”
'And after that?”
'There is no after that. Somewhere along the line he'll die. They always die.”
'Oh.' Mace turned to go, trying to keep her expression blank. Her captive's fate was ultimately no worse than what his comrades aboard the scoutship had suffered, but at least they'd gone down heads up and fighting. This kzin would die when the drugs finally broke the last strands of his mind.
Long's hand on her arm brought her up short. She didn't want to meet his gaze, but she was too much a commander not to. There was an intensity to his voice that hadn't been there before. 'Do you know how I got this job, Captain?”
He continued before she could answer. 'I am a cultural historian. I decided to study the kzinti. I learned their language, I traveled to Tiamat, I made friends with them. After that I went to W'kkai and lived there for twelve years. I was Man-Student-of-Kzinti. I had hoped to go to Kzin home itself. They have an advanced and intricate society; I have lifetimes of work ahead of me. And now there is another war coming and I have had to abandon that work and use the knowledge the kzinti gave me to make their prisoners betray their species because I am the best qualified to do it. The fact that kzinti die in captivity does not matter to UNSN Command.”
She became aware of how hard he was gripping her arm. He let her go and sat down wearily. 'We both serve our race. Just remember that, Captain.”
Mace hurried back to Excalibur's bridge where the not-war was clear-cut, glad the kzin's fate was not her responsibility. She threw herself into preparations for their next patrol, trying to drown out the little voice in the back of her head. 'If you don't feel responsible,' it wondered, 'why did you ask what would happen to him?”
Andromeda had jail cells, but the prisoner wasn't in one. It was important that he feel as unrestrained as possible. Long's main interrogation room was a rebuilt luxury guest suite. The only concessions to security were a marine guardpost outside the door and a thumbplate that was keyed to Long alone. Nothing else was needed. Andromeda's interior walls were built to specifications far more demanding than those needed to confine a kzin. The bathroom had been redone to kzin scale and taste, and holowalls on three sides displayed a tree-dotted savannah. The furnishings were sparse, a table, an oversized desk, an armchair and an oversized kzin prrstet, a firmly padded cross between a couch and hammock. On the shelf were a set of kzin eyegoggles, a playback unit and few dozen virtual adventures stored on datacubes. The desk held a standard data terminal, modified with an additional kzin-style display board. Once a rapport was established Long gave his subjects a computer ident with carefully limited access. Kzinti who would be seriously insulted by a bribe could still be subtly pressured by granting and withdrawing privileges. Doing it through the computer allowed Long to pretend it was out of his control. Eventually the kzin would come to depend on him to straighten out problems with 'higher authority' and accept tacit rewards for cooperation. The suite abutted on a large storage room. Long was trying to get permission to remove the intervening wall and turn the room into an arboretum to make his subjects more comfortable. The longer they remained relaxed the longer he could delay taking them to his other interrogation room, the one with the suspension tank and the hypnodrugs.
The prisoner was alone in the room, spread-eagled on a portable police web. Even hanging like a trophy pelt the kzin was impressive. He certainly wasn't a telepath; he showed no sign of either drug addiction or withdrawal. He was well over two and a half meters tall and dark orange. Black tiger stripes zigzagged around his flanks to the lighter fur of his belly. His ears, paws and the tip of his tail were also black. The effect would have been cute on a housecat but was simply striking here. His lips raised slightly, exposing the edges of his fangs, and his eyes contracted to narrow slits as they followed Long around the room. His ears were raised and swivelled forward in hunting posture. That was good, had they been laid flat with fear or anger Long's job would have been impossible. On the other hand the kzin's current expression made him feel like a prey animal. Captain Mace's feelings were not unwarranted.
Long took a deep breath and addressed the kzin in the Hero's Tongue. 'I am Major Long, intelligence officer. May I ask your name?”
The kzin snarled back, his teeth bared in what looked like a smile. The hostility in his voice was palpable. 'I have no name, I am known as Fleet Commander.”
Long was startled. He hoped his self-control and the kzin's unfamiliarity with human expressions were enough to conceal his surprise. To ask a kzin's name was not just an introduction, it was a compliment. Only kzinti of high rank or accomplishment had names; the lower orders were simply known by their job description. To find a kzin of such status on a scoutship was unusual. To find a kzin whose rank was Fleet Commander and yet did not bear at least a partial name was unheard of. Further, the kzin's fang-baring smile showed that he found the question insulting. Whether it was because he didn't carry a name or because it had been suggested he did was unknowable, neither option made any sense. Still, despite the fangs and bristled fur the kzin wasn't showing the blind rage or abject depression that most prisoners displayed. That, at least, was a good sign.
'It is a pleasure and an honor to meet you, Fleet Commander.' He clicked his heels together and gave a kzinti salute, raking his hand in front of his face.
The kzin's deadly smile relaxed as much as the police web would allow. 'It is an honor to meet you, Major Long, but it is no pleasure.' He flicked his ears as he said it.
'This room is sealed. If you will give me your word that you will not harm me I will release you.”
'There is no honor in accepting charity from an enemy,' growled the kzin. 'But neither is there honor in hanging like a kzraow on a stick.' He flicked his ears again. 'I give you my word, Major Long, and I accept your offer.”
'There is no dishonor, Fleet Commander. That web will hold a kzin; you would not have been able to break free.' He hit the release switch. There was no danger. A kzinti warrior's word was his honor, and his honor was his life. Nevertheless it was unsettling to be alone in the room with a hungry enemy carnivore.
The kzin dropped free of the field and stretched in a quintessentially feline motion, then rubbed his limbs in an incongruously primate gesture. 'In truth, Major Long, that web will hold ten kzin. I believe the warrior who put me here found me more fearsome than he had need.' He flicked his ears for a third time. That expression was the kzinti equivalent of a wry smile, given in concert with an ironic comment. Long seemed to have found a kzin with a sense of humor. Under the circumstances, he thought with his own touch of irony, that might be even rarer than a Fleet Commander with no name.
'I apologize for your maltreatment.' Long gestured to the prrstet. 'Please make yourself comfortable, we have much to discuss. I am to act as your liaison while you are here.' He settled into the armchair.
The kzin hopped onto the padding with easy grace. He looked completely relaxed, as only a cat can. No trace of his former anger remained. 'You speak the Hero's Tongue well, Major Long. It is music after the way your destroyer captain abused my ears.”
The interview was going better than any Long had conducted before. It usually took days to reach this stage of semiformal banter. Fleet Commander might have well been a W'kkai noble meeting Man-Student-of-Kzinti for the first time, curious, confident and polite almost to a fault. He responded in kind. 'Your praise encourages my poor efforts, esteemed warrior.”
Fleet Commander continued. 'Tell me, though, what need has a prisoner for a liaison officer?”
'You are not a prisoner, although you must remain here for now. While negotiations for your return continue you will be our guest. We would appreciate any help you could give us.' The hope of release helped kzinti captives to hold on to their sanity longer and gave Long more leverage to pry out information. It was despair that ultimately filled them.
