Chuft-Captain spun to face him. Since contempt and insult was a normal component of Kzinti communication, Sulu's manner had no effect on him at all.
"Both boxes are the rightful property of Kzin. One we found was empty. We will soon see about the one your trespassing archeologists found. Yes, we knew of those on Gruyakin—and of the box. We intercepted one of their broadcasts, you see." He looked proud. "We did not know of the box until they contacted your ship.
"Rather than assault the entire installation—an attack which would no doubt have been successful but difficult to conceal—we waited for the box to be transported off the planet. Little could we hope that only one man and two others would be sent to recover it. With that known, we hastily arranged this trap. Your disappearance," he added matter-of-factly, "will be much simpler to disguise. As for the second box," and he gestured at the glowing cube on the table, "it is rightfully the property of Kzin."
"What's all this garbage about trespassing and Kzin property?" Sulu sounded outraged. "Gruyakin is an open system."
"A system long claimed by Kzin," snapped an imperious Chuft-Captain.
"The Kzinti make it a habit to claim half the planets in the galaxy," sniffed Sulu. "It's one thing to stake a claim, another to prove rightful ownership. Saying Gruyakin belongs to Kzin is not the same thing as owning it."
"Both boxes are the property of Kzin!" Chuft-Captain's idea of rational debate apparently consisted of stating that which he believed over and over again, as if his claim would gain validity through force of repetition.
"The stasis box we found some time ago was empty," he explained, "but it served well as bait to draw you here. Now we await the inheritance rightfully ours." He gestured at the box, evidently enjoying himself. "The Slavers possessed weapons that could devastate a civilization. If the gods are with us, there will be one such weapon in that box."
Automatically Sulu's eyes traveled to the glowing container they had recovered with so much difficulty. The box itself was harmless as long as one took care—unlike the unfortunate Jaiao Beguin, back on Gruyakin—not to try to open it incorrectly. Sulu fervently wished that the Kzinti stasis nullifier wouldn't work properly. It would be a pleasure to watch the box's defensive system promptly envelop every member of the Kzinti crew in a silvery stasis field of their own.
Across the room, the Kzinti telepath frowned. Let him. Sulu grinned viciously. They had nothing else to threaten him with.
However, judging from the expertise with which the Kzinti technicians were assembling their own nullifier, Sulu's hope was wishful thinking at best. Again he could only glance at the box and pray that its contents proved as innocuous as its exterior.
Sulu had already assumed an aggressive, angry pose. Might as well maintain it. He continued to lace his comments with contempt. "The Kzinti fought four wars with humankind and lost them all," he declared. "The last one was two hundred years ago. It seems that you haven't learned a thing since."
That touched a nerve. A violent howl rattled the interior of the ship. It was as brief as it was extreme. Aware that he had been provoked beyond control, Chuft-Captain quickly bit off the roar, though it took him several moments longer to regain his composure.
When he finally, dangerously responded, his comments were phrased almost carelessly. "Guard your speech, man. None of my crew has ever tasted human meat as did our ancestors. We would welcome the opportunity."
Belligerence had its place. So did common sense. Realizing he had pushed Chuft-Captain too far, Sulu refrained from responding. The Kzin's threat was not made idly. There was nothing to be gained by advancing the time of their death. While they lived there was always the chance, however faint it seemed at the moment, of recovering or at least destroying the stasis box and its unknown contents. While their present status mitigated against that, they could do even less from inside someone's stewpot.
"Always," Chuft-Captain was saying, "you and your Federation have had superior equipment and technology. We've sought a weapon for a long time which would enable us to defeat you at last."
Sulu jumped on that. "So much for your story about being a privateer. You've just declared that you're really working for the government of Kzin."
One of the other Kzinti, possibly an intermediate officer, looked up from the work proceeding at the table to snarl at Chuft-Captain, who growled back.
"You are presumptuous," he rumbled at Sulu. "All records will show that the Traitor's Claw is a stolen police ship. If we are captured, the Highest of Kzin will repudiate us." He smiled, showing sharp white teeth. "No matter what happens, no one except you could possibly prove that this is anything but an illegal privateer crew. And you will not be alive to offer any evidence against us."
A low growling interrupted him. The Kzinti were stepping back from the now-completed nullifier.
Chuft-Captain snarled a reply, started toward the table. He glanced back with a final word for Sulu. "If we succeed and are not captured or intercepted, you will be meat for our tables."
There was an exchange of grumbles and gestures. A couple of the Kzin technicians made some last-minute adjustments to the nullifier. When everyone had stepped clear, the engineer in charge pulled a single switch.
The mood in the room, among captives as well as Kzinti, was one of anticipation mixed with caution. While the stasis nullifier looked efficient and the Kzinti had clearly taken every precaution with its construction and design to insure that it would operate exactly as intended, no one could predict with one hundred percent certainty exactly what a stasis box might do in any situation. For example, it might turn out to be a very intricate Slaver booby trap designed to look like a stasis box.
These fears were overcome by fascination as the nullifier acted on the box. As the nullifying field strengthened, so did the blue aura surrounding the mirror-surfaced cube. Abruptly, the box flared with a light so bright that the Kzinti had to shield their eyes and the prisoners shut theirs lightly.
The powerful flash lasted only an instant, faded as quickly as it had appeared. In its place rested an unremarkable-looking metal box devoid of its original blue halo. Chuft-Captain gestured curtly.
In response, one of the low-ranking Kzinti approached the table. He eyed the box warily. This was a duty he would have preferred to avoid, but under direct order from Chuft-Captain such a thing was unthinkable.
Very carefully, very slowly, he pushed the metal lid up and back. Nothing erupted from the box to shatter its opener or anyone else. No stasis field appeared to freeze the Kzin in time for the next billion years. For all the reaction its opening produced, the box might as well have been made of plastic in the Enterprise's nonorganic fabrication section.
As soon as it was evident that nothing dangerous was going to happen, Chuft-Captain shouldered his crew out of the way in his eagerness to peer into the box. He reached the table, looked into the box . . . and stood, staring quietly.
Sulu, Spock, and Uhura all watched closely—the two humans with apprehension, Spock with an intense curiosity.
Chuft-Captain reached into the box and withdrew an object. It was small and pulsed with an inner light of its own. Sulu stared at the form, which was vaguely reptilian in outline and somehow conveyed the impression of considerable size. He blinked. The "size" was a mental suggestion, built into the shape. The glowing object was as small as ever.
A certain amount of awe came into Sulu's voice. "Could that be a solid simuhologram of a Slaver?"
"If so," Spock whispered back to him without taking his eyes off the object as Chuft-Captain set it on the table, "it is the first representation of a Slaver ever discovered. An important historical find."
Again Chuft-Captain reached into the stasis box. This time he drew out a small square of what was unmistakably raw meat. It was wrapped in a peculiar, nonplastic transparent substance. Chuft-Captain examined it, turning it over in his fingers, and spoke to several other Kzinti. They appeared to agree with him as to its identification.
"I
t looks like fresh meat," Uhura murmured won-deringly. "Over a billion years in that box, and it looks fresh. I wonder what it's doing in there."
"It may have been left inside accidentally," theorized Spock. "Or perhaps whoever placed it inside intended to come back shortly and reopen the box, and left itself a fresh snack."
Uhura glanced sharply—as sharply as she could, restrained as she was by the police web—at the Enterprise's first officer, but there was no hint of humor in his expression and had been none in his words.
Chuft-Captain set the little cube of meat down next to the solid simuhologram, which might or might not be a portrait of a Slaver. Sulu thought he put the meat aside a little reluctantly. He could understand that the possibility of tasting billion-year-old meat was very tempting to a carnivore. But Chuft-Captain was not so foolish as to consume an alien substance without ample pretesting. That was a pity. If they were lucky, it might have poisoned him.
Across the room, the telepath frowned again.
Anyway, more important revelations were at hand. Suddenly Chuft-Captain bore a look of great excitement. This time his hands fairly swooped down into the box. They emerged like a hawk with a kill in its claws.
What the Kzin commander withdrew resembled nothing organic, however. It consisted of a silver-surfaced bubble some seventeen centimeters in diameter. Attached to it was a heavy pistol grip. In form it was awkwardly made, and though not designed for human or Kzinti hands, it was unmistakable as to purpose and function.
A slot ran down one side of the hand—or claw, or tentacle, or who knew what—grip. Sulu could make out six settings notched along the slot. Beside each setting were markings in an unfamiliar script. A small toggle ran the length of the slot. At present it was at the slot's topmost setting.
Wordlessly, an enthused Chuft-Captain turned the device over and over in his hands. Anticipation spread rapidly among the other Kzinti as they realized what Chuft-Captain might be holding. They growled and snarled with animation, acting like a bunch of schoolchildren at vacation time, sounding like a section of a Federation zoo.
It was a deceptive demonstration. Their unrestrained enthusiasm masked their natural viciousness. Chuft-Captain turned, using the object to threaten the prisoners.
"Nothing like this has ever been found before in a stasis box. It can only be a weapon. It must be a weapon. A Slaver weapon! And we of Kzin are the only ones who have it. Look close at it, human!" He walked up to the police web, shook the device almost under Sulu's nose. "This may mean the end of your flatulent Federation of pacifists and root-eaters!" He turned, walked back to display the device to the rest of the curious group.
"Is he right, Mr. Spock? Could he possibly—be right?" Sulu's voice had fallen to a worried whisper.
"I fear it is very possible, Lieutenant," the first officer replied. Then he added a note of caution. "However, I do not as yet see any solid reason to share Chuft-Captain's assurance. Certainly the device looks like a weapon. Yet we know so little of Slaver physiology and technology. It may not be a weapon but something else entirely.
"I find little comfort in that, however," he added. "Given the design of the device, even allowing for alien vagaries of technology I must—" He slipped sideways a little, then righted himself.
Sulu and Uhura moved, half stumbling, before recovering their balance. They found they could now move from the waist up. Their arms moved slowly, as long-frozen muscles struggled to obey mental orders.
"They have relaxed the police web," Spock noted aloud. "Preparatory to doing something unpleasant with us, no doubt. Switch on your translators."
The three officers, their hands now free, activated the tiny devices at their waists. Now they could understand the Kzinti without having to rely on the obsidian-edged English of Chuft-Captain.
The Kzin commander was still speaking to several members of his crew. "Have the humans moved to the surface. Be sure they are secured there in the police web. We will utilize them to test the weapon."
"Yes, Chuft-Captain." That response from one of the other Kzinti, another subofficer. He executed an odd sort of salute, then departed. Probably, Sulu thought, to locate a suitable place above for the . . . demonstration.
Several other Kzinti prepared to leave with Chuft-Captain. That worthy paused. For the first time since Sulu had regained consciousness, he saw Chuft-Captain talking to the forgotten member of the crew. Scratching at the scraggly, drooping whiskers on his face, the Kzin telepath gazed up at his commander sadly.
"You have had time to observe the aliens," Chuft-Captain said to him. "Can you read their minds?"
The telepath's voice matched his pitiable appearance. It had none of the power or strength of his brother Kzinti. Its most distinguishing characteristic was a distinct whine.
"I can read the one called Sulu with difficulty, Chuft-Captain. The other human is only a female. Consequently I have not wasted my efforts on her." Chuft-Captain made a grunting sound to indicate he understood. "The third is a pacifistic herbivore." The whine was augmented by pleading. "Surely you would not force me to delve into such a brain!"
"If it is necessary," was the Kzin commander's brutal reply. "I do realize that you need time to recover from each effort at probing." That was as far as Chuft-Captain could go toward expressing concern for a fellow creature. The telepath did not seem very grateful for it.
"Prepare to move them to the surface." At this order from Chuft-Captain, the remaining Kzinti spread out and drew phasers. One Kzin moved to a nearby wall panel and touched a control. The remainder of the police web deactivated.
Several moments passed while the prisoners were permitted to exercise their cramped leg muscles. Under Chuft-Captain's direction they were surrounded by the armed Kzinti and marched back out the way they had entered. Other Kzinti rolled up the police web and carried it behind, along with a portable power unit and set of remote controls.
There was a wait at the lock while the Kzinti donned their suit armor and the prisoners were permitted to reactivate their life-support belts. Then in small groups they passed via the lock to the icy ground outside.
Once more Spock studied the terrain, only now it was with different thoughts than the ones which had run through his mind when they had first arrived on this world of Beta Lyrae. Pressure ridging and earth movements had broken and buckled the ice plain. If they had an opportunity to break free of their captors, they had ample cover to run to.
After setting up the police web, most of the Kzinti returned to the ship. That left only Chuft-Captain, Telepath, and two others. Apparently the Kzinti felt confident of their ability to control their prisoners. And why shouldn't they? There was really only the human Sulu to watch. The root-eater and the female animal could be ignored.
Chuft-Captain responded to a buzz in his helmet. "Yes?"
A raspy voice sounded over the suit intercom from inside the Traitor's Claw. "Chuft-Captain, chemistry has finished analyzing the meat that was in the stasis box. The wrapping is composed of an unknown polymer of metal-ceramic. The meat itself is fully protoplasmic and is poisonous to Kzinkind."
That last was disappointing. Chuft-Captain glanced down at the hoped-for Slaver weapon, inspected the silvery bubble shape thoughtfully. "What of the simulacrum?"
The response came this time not from the ship but from one of the suited figures standing next to the commander. "The human Sulu," the telepath said, "believes it to be a three-dimensional representation of an actual Slaver."
Sulu was startled. He had almost forgotten the presence of the telepath. It was the first time the ragged-looking Kzin had actually given proof that it could read their thoughts. The helmsman found it gave him an uncomfortable, dirty feeling, as if someone was rummaging with impunity through his private possessions. All he could do was glare menacingly at the telepath.
"I agree with the human's assessment." Chuft-Captain was recalling the shape of the simuhologram, the impression of size and strength that radiated from it. "It would have mad
e a worthy foe. Secure the prisoners."
Helplessly Sulu, Uhura, and Spock watched as the police web was unrolled, charged, and activated. The test completed, the web was turned off until the three captives were standing on it. Then it was switched on again and all three officers found themselves immobilized once more.
Meanwhile, Chuft-Captain had walked to a nearby rise of ice and rock. He raised the silvery device. It took him several clumsy tries to pull the trigger, since the grip wasn't designed to fit his hand.
Nothing happened.
"Perhaps the small toggle," one of the watching Kzinti suggested.
Chuft-Captain nodded brusquely, moved the toggle in the handle slot down toward the first notch and its untranslatable hieroglyphs. The toggle slid easily and freely, slipped into place as though just lubricated. But as soon as the toggle slipped home, the device started to twist in his hand as if it were something alive. Chuft-Captain made a startled sound halfway between a hiss and a snarl. The other Kzinti and the three captives were equally surprised.
To his credit, Chuft-Captain did not drop the device. The distorting writhing soon stopped. The silvery sphere had vanished. In its place, attached to the same unchanged hand grip, was a small parabolic mirror with a silvery knob located at its focal point. A series of markings with little toggle switches of their own ran across the back of the mirror's surface.
After a brief examination of the device's unexpected new configuration, Chuft-Captain aimed it at the horizon and pulled the trigger set in the hand grip. Again nothing happened. He lowered his aim until he was pointing the mirror at the ground in front of him and held the trigger down. There was no hint of radiation or any sign that the device was doing anything at all.
Snarling in frustration, the Kzinti commander raised the device until the mirror was centered directly on Sulu. Uhura made a shocked sound. Spock didn't say a word.
The helmsman stood quietly, assumed a resigned, outwardly unaffected expression. Chuft-Captain held the trigger down again. There was still no indication that the device was performing any kind of function. Perhaps, Chuft-Captain thought, the device was acting in some fashion not readily visible.
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