Destiny's Forge-A Man-Kzin War Novel (man-kzin wars)

by Paul Chafe

  “I am… I am sorry.”

  “Yes. Now I invite the pity of herbivores. My shame is great. Nevertheless, I will not allow myself to owe blood debt to one.” The kzin wrinkled his nose. “I find your reasons acceptable. Do you wish me to find you a ship?”

  “Please. I would appreciate it.”

  “It will take some time.” The screen went black. For a kzin who had been Patriarch's Voice, No-longer-Grarl-Rrit was not big on formality.

  The time it took turned out to be two days, long enough for Tskombe to decide they couldn't delay getting off Tiamat any longer. He was actually in the process of booking tickets when his beltcomp chimed and the kzin appeared, gave him directions to a bar in Tigertown, gave him a time, and told him to go there and wait. Tskombe started to ask who he'd be waiting for, but again the screen went black before he could say anything.

  He recognized the place when he got there; it was the same place he'd been thrown out of when he'd started his search for a ship. He took a chair by the bar. It was early yet, and the place was nearly empty. He got a few looks from the kzinti already there and carefully ignored them.

  The big kzin who ran the place came over. “You have been told to leave twice already, human.” Proprietor's lips twitched over his fangs.

  “Grarl-Rrit sent me here. I'm waiting for someone.”

  “Grarl-Rrit?” Proprietor's ears swiveled up and forward. “Grarl-Rrit is dead.” The big kzin spat the words with contempt, but he went away and let Tskombe sit where he was unmolested.

  Tskombe considered ordering a drink and thought better of it. Proprietor would let him know if he was breaking a social convention. The method of contact wasn't a question. He was the only human in the place; whoever he was meeting could be watching him right now and he'd be none the wiser. He'd waited long enough to get bored when a large kzin sat down beside him. Proprietor came over and the kzin ordered vodka and ice cream, then turned to Tskombe.

  “You are the human the outcast spoke of, yes?”

  Tskombe nodded. “I need to get a ship. Grarl…” He caught himself. “The kzin who was once known as Grarl-Rrit thought you could help.”

  The kzin raised an ear. “Who are you?”

  “Quacy Tskombe, recently of the UNF.”

  “Recently…” The kzin looked him up and down. “What are you now?”

  “Now I'm no one, I need to find someone.”

  “No one looking for someone. Hrrr.” The kzin looked him over again. “You need a pilot, I think. Do you know who I am?”

  Tskombe shrugged. “Not a clue.”

  “So the outcast said nothing?”

  “He said to come here and wait.”

  “And you took his word?”

  “I had little choice. I came, and you're here. Who are you?”

  “You take risks, taking the word of one like the outcast.”

  Tskombe nodded. “I judged he was well connected. I didn't ask him to help, he offered.”

  “He did?” The kzin's ears fanned up. “Why?”

  “I helped him, after a fight. He owed me blood debt, he said.”

  “Hrrr. He retains more honor than his cousin, at least.”

  Tskombe met the kzin's gaze. “And who are you, exactly?”

  “I am known as Night Pilot. I have my own ship.”

  Tskombe's eyes widened. He'd expected to have to go through more intermediaries. The kzinti dealt directly. “Can I hire you?”

  “Perhaps, if you have what I need.”

  “What do you need?”

  “Money. What else?”

  “How much?”

  “How much do you have?”

  “Enough.” Tskombe shrugged. “Name your price.”

  Night Pilot smiled a fanged smile. “One hundred million kroner.”

  Tskombe snorted. “You're not serious.”

  “You said name my price. I named it. Perhaps you have not got enough after all.”

  “Let's not play games here. I'll give you a reasonable fee.”

  “Then what is your offer?”

  Tskombe avoided the question. “Why are you called Night Pilot? Isn't it always night in space?”

  “The cargoes I carry must frequently be landed when the drop zone is behind the solar terminator.”

  “Why?”

  Night Pilot turned a paw over. “My clients require the utmost discretion.”

  “You're a smuggler.”

  “I am what humans call a freerunner.”

  “Is there a difference?”

  “Hrrr.” Night Pilot's lips twitched involuntarily. “I will assume you intend no insult by that. I am a pilot whose clients require discretion and skillful ship command, as you do. I provide that service, and I stand behind both my flight skills and my discretion with my honor. The details of what they ship are no concern of mine. Most independent pilots will not provide such services; few that do are as reliable as I. For this reason I charge premium cargo rates. Does that make it clear? I suspect that the mission you are undertaking will involve considerable risk. My fee must therefore include a risk premium.”

  Tskombe nodded. “Money I can give you. Do you not seek strakh as well?”

  Night Pilot twitched his whiskers. “I owe no fealty to the Patriarch or any Great Pride. What use have I for strakh?”

  And Tskombe could say nothing to that. Kefan Brasseur would have known how to answer, but Kefan was dead. Was Ayla? Please let her be alive.

  “What cargo are you shipping?”

  “It's actually another passenger, a cetacean. The cetacean will require a water tank, which you may consider cargo.”

  Night Pilot wrinkled his ears. “What is a cetacean?”

  “A dolphin, an intelligent marine mammal. This one is a matrix strategist.”

  “The tank is for a water environment? How large is it?”

  “One thousand cubic meters, approximately, half air and half salt water, with several more cubic meters of environmental control equipment and food.”

  “Hrrr. Mass approximately six hundred tonnes then. I can carry that. And the destination?”

  “Kzinhome.”

  Night Pilot's ears swiveled up in surprise. “You take an extreme risk to travel there unescorted.”

  “I've been there before.” If the kzin was further surprised by that news he kept it to himself. Tskombe went on. “I also need a guide on Kzinhome.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “You have heard there is a new Patriarch.”

  “Scrral-Rrit. Everyone has heard.”

  “What do you know of him?”

  “Little but that he stains his father's name. The intrigues of the Patriarch's court are of little import here at K'Shai. We are in no rush to replace the Patriarch's Voice.”

  Tskombe nodded. “I was part of a diplomatic mission to Kzinhome. The new Patriarch took power with the assistance of Tzaatz Pride. In the fighting my colleagues and myself were caught between factions. I managed to escape, but I left someone behind.”

  “And you wish to rescue him?”

  “Her. I hope to.”

  “And the cetacean?”

  “She is a matrix strategist. She will accompany us to the surface.”

  “No.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “No. I will not transport the cetacean. My reputation stands on my ability to protect my clientele. Environmental considerations demand that the dolphin will remain on the ship. If I am to guide you I cannot also offer protection to the dolphin. Confined as it will be to its tank, it will be helpless if something goes wrong.”

  “She will not be confined to her tank, she has a set of dolphin hands, and an environmental bodysuit with polarizers. She will be mobile, and her advice will be important.”

  “This is not a solution on Kzinhome. A water creature will make novel prey, and be unable to defend itself. It will be difficult to protect.”

  “I'm sure there are other pilots who will take her.”

  “Then find
them.” Night Pilot showed his teeth.

  Tskombe considered for a moment. And I will have more freedom to operate if I don't have to worry about Curvy. And Curvy will be here to look after Trina. “Agreed then. The cetacean will remain behind.”

  “Hrrr.” The kzin's fanged smile relaxed. “Now we must discuss the fee.”

  “I have no idea how much a trip like that should cost. You have the advantage of me. I'll trust your honor to give me a fair price.”

  “Hrrr.” Night Pilot turned a paw over. “Two million kroner for the voyage, both ways, fuel inclusive. Four thousand kroner each day I spend on the ground as your guide.”

  “You can't be serious. I could get a ticket to Earth for twenty thousand.”

  “On a passenger ship the cost is split with the other passengers, but there are no passenger runs to Kzinhome. Here you are hiring the entire ship, and myself and my copilot. Earth is just four light-years away; Kzinhome is nearly eight-squared. Fuel is expensive.”

  Tskombe whistled. “You don't come cheap.”

  “That price covers my fuel costs, maintenance costs, time, risk, and opportunity costs for the voyage. It is reasonable in the circumstances. We will have to plan carefully for our actions on Kzinhome; it will be dangerous, for both of us.”

  Tskombe nodded, and tapped his beltcomp, waited for his account readout to display. “I'll give you one million fifty-four thousand kroner, for the ship and for thirty days guiding on Kzinhome.”

  “Not enough.”

  Tskombe turned his beltcomp around so the kzin could see the readout. “It's all I have.” Fifteen years accumulated pay and bonuses. I'm taking a tremendous risk here. His gaze didn't waver from Night Pilot's. My decision is already made.

  “Hrrr.” Night Pilot turned his paw over again, considering. “For this I will take you to Kzinhome, one way, with no time spent guiding.”

  Tskombe considered. One way meant he had no route home, but he could cross that bridge when he came to it.

  “No, that's the whole reason I need a kzinti pilot.”

  “Hire another kzin to do it for you.”

  “I can't if I give you everything I've got. Twenty days guiding then.”

  Night Pilot looked away, calculating. “I cannot afford to let my ship stand idle. Operating expenses do not stop when I do. The price I quote is what my skills and equipment are worth. If I accept your offer I will forgo half my profit, and will have no margin for unexpected fuel costs or repairs. My partner will not agree to this.”

  “There must be a way.”

  “Hrrr.” Night Pilot considered. “You are flying without cargo, so I will save slightly on fuel. In addition a flight to Kzinhome is attractive, because there is a high probability of finding a lucrative cargo there.” He turned a paw over. “I would be willing to take these risks, if my partner agrees.” He looked back to Tskombe. “In order to make the risk pay off I must find a cargo as soon as we touch down. I cannot spend time guiding.”

  “Five days then.”

  “Hrrr.” Night Pilot considered further. “I am sorry, but I cannot.” He looked up to meet Tskombe's eyes. “Unless…”

  “Unless…?”

  “My partner can find a cargo while I guide you. You must understand that once my cargo is consigned I will have to leave, no matter how much time I have given you.”

  “How much time would that be, roughly?”

  “I would estimate eight days, roughly, Kzinhome standard. It may vary considerably from that.”

  Tskombe nodded. “And the minimum time?”

  “It will take a minimum of two days to refuel the ship, check systems and prepare to boost again.”

  “I see.” Eight days is not much time; two days won't be enough. Tskombe considered the kzin. He wasn't trying to talk up the price, he already knew the full extent of Tskombe's bank account. He was simply laying out his operating parameters so Tskombe could make a decision as to whether his needs would be met by the deal they could strike. “If you get a cargo your return fuel costs are covered. Can we make it a round trip, my flight to coincide with your next cargo flight?”

  “The return trip might not be to Alpha Centauri, or even human space.”

  Tskombe nodded. And what I need most is to get off of Tiamat, immediately. Everything else can be figured out on Kzinhome. “I'll take that risk. When can we leave?”

  “This is contingent on my partner's agreement. Given that, we can be prepared to boost in twenty-seven hours. Will that suffice?”

  Tskombe nodded. “That's fine.”

  “Do you have anything that needs to be preloaded?”

  “Just my personal effects.”

  “Understood. The ship is Black Saber, in bay seventeen at the downaxis hub. I will call you when I have consulted my partner. I do not expect a problem. You should plan to depart in twenty-seven hours.”

  Night Pilot offered his paw for Tskombe to shake, an oddly human gesture. Tskombe shook it somewhat awkwardly. He felt a strange tension come over him. Everything up to this point had been an obstacle to be overcome. Now he was going to march quite literally into the lion's den. Ayla, I hope you're there. Twenty-seven hours, and he would be on his way to Kzinhome. And what will I do when I arrive? That was something he hadn't worked out yet, there had been too many more immediate problems to solve first.

  He tubed back to their quarters, relieved when the car arrived there and not at ARM headquarters again. The UN on Tiamat still hadn't caught up with his status with the UN on earth. He had one more tube ride to take and he wouldn't have to worry about Sergeant Veers anymore. When he arrived Trina was still in the pool with Curvy. It seemed to Tskombe that she only came out to eat and sleep. Another week or two and he expected she'd be catching trout in her teeth.

  “I have a ship!” he announced while Trina swam over and Curvy nosed herself into her handsuit.

  Trina beamed. “That's wonderful, when do we leave?” She pulled herself out of the water, sleek and dripping.

  “Not we, just me. You have to stay here with Curvy.”

  “What? No!” Trina was visibly upset.

  Curvy trilled. “When last we discussed this I was to accompany you.”

  “The pilot won't take you. He won't accept responsibility for your safety on Kzinhome.”

  “What about me?” Trina interjected.

  “You can't go because it's too dangerous. We've already discussed this.” Tskombe raised his hands to forestall further argument. “Look, this is a good option. We all know it will be dangerous, and it's ultimately my mission. Curvy, you can swing a deal with the Wunderland government and get immunity from the ARM, and that will get you the resources to look after Trina.”

  “I want to come with you,” said Trina.

  “Look how well you're doing here with Curvy,” he reasoned. “On Wunderland you can—”

  Trina cut him off, her voice rising. “You're going for Ayla. You don't even know if she's alive and you're going for her.”

  “You know that's what I'm here to do.”

  “Just take me with you, I can help you find her.” There was an edge of desperation in her voice. Tskombe was unprepared for her reaction. She knew this was the plan.

  “I can't.” He saw her eyes brimming with tears. “I'll come back for you, I told you that, I promise.” The words felt empty even as he said them. The probabilities were he wouldn't be coming back at all.

  “You won't be.” Trina burst into tears and ran out, nearly tripping on the still dilating pressure door in her haste.

  The door contracted again, and Tskombe sighed deeply as he watched it. There was nothing else he could say.

  Curvy whistled to break the silence. “This represents a change in plans, Colonel Tskombe. We must make strategy.”

  He turned to the dolphin, relieved to have a problem he could understand. “I think this is a better option. The situation on Kzinhome is dangerous, and as much as I'd appreciate your advice, you'll be quite literally out of your elem
ent. And I'd rather not send Trina to the Bureau of Displaced Persons. They'll look after her, but she needs more than that.”

  “Let me consider this.” Curvy's manipulator tentacles tapped keys on her console. The matrix simulation ran for a few minutes, and then numbers spilled over the screen. Curvy whistled and clicked. “The risk balance is favorable. I concur you may travel alone. Trina's well-being is not a factor in global consideration, although of course I am concerned for her on a personal level.”

  Tskombe spread his hands. “The pilot won't take you.”

  “I understand. Nor do I recommend we delay or try to find another pilot. The ARM may rectify their mistake with you at any time, and our efforts will come to nothing. You must leave, and I must stay. The pertinent question concerns what you will do on Kzinhome.”

  “I haven't figured that out yet.”

  “I have almost no parameters to build a model with. I expect the situation will be very fluid, which is why I intended to accompany you, in order to construct a more complete strategic matrix as information became available on the ground.”

  “So in the absence of that, what do I do? I can't search the entire world.”

  “I would recommend you make contact with the ruling faction controlled by the Tzaatz. You still have the sigil of the new Patriarch's father, which should offer you at least initial immunity from attack. You can negotiate to prevent war, and the entire resources of the Patriarchy will be available to help you find Captain Cherenkova.”

  “I'm not sure I trust the Tzaatz.”

  “There is the risk that the ruling faction will be using the threat of war with humanity in order to facilitate their consolidation of power. However, in the absence of a complete model of the situation, I believe this is your best option.”

  Tskombe nodded. “Not a good option, but the best option.” I knew this was going to be risky when I started. “How are you going to get to Wunderland?”

  “I am not going to Wunderland. I will continue to work for the United Nations. I will be able to exert more effective influence on the course of events within their framework. Despite its independence, Wunderland remains a colony world and is orders of magnitude less powerful than Earth. Also, I would like to retain the freedom to return to the North Pacific. Switching allegiance to Wunderland will make that impossible.”