by Larry Niven
He looked at Leonie. A sudden thought of her exposed to tree-of-life gave rise to a peculiarly horrible image: her lower body was much younger than her upper. Mad and impossible. Still, Leonie's presence gave the situation between him and Quickenden at least a superficial feeling of normalcy.
"What happened then?" he asked after an awkward silence.
"I told Guthlac and Cumpston. They've gone to find them. Karan went with them."
"Karan?"
"Would you like to try and stop her, when she's made her mind up? They suggested she go back to Vaemar's palace and wait. She thought Vaemar might need her."
"So what do we do now? Go after them?"
Rykermann touched his desk. A hologram globe of Wunderland sprang into existence above it. He touched an icon and the scattering of human settlements on Little Southland was displayed.
"If those three can't take care of any problems our presence may not make much difference," Rykermann said at length, reluctantly. It's no business of his that I can't let myself see Dimity again.
"Vaemar only spent a short time at the caves," he went on. "He only looked at a few of the nearest passages. I'm worried about what may be happening there. We've left no one on guard."
"I'll take a look, if you like."
"You're not a Wunderlander. I'd rather go myself or, no offence, send someone who knew the ground better. That isn't Procyon in the sky, you know."
"Someone should be here to coordinate the others or call for help if we need it. That seems to be you or Leonie. She says she'll go with me."
"I'll organize a car for you," said Rykermann. No point in protesting. When Leonie's made her mind up, I think I'd rather try to stop Karan. Anyway, I'd like to let you see the caliber of my mate. "Go well-armed, keep your com-link open to me, and wear pressure-suits with the helmets on and the faceplates closed at all, I mean all, times you're on the ground. Don't land at all if you can help it. Just use the car's deep-radar to monitor movement in the caves. If it's bipedal and within certain size parameters, we've got a pattern-recognition program that can tell you if it's human or Morlock. Or kzinti, for that matter. If it's none of those things, well..."
"What chances of other humans there?"
"I hope there won't be any. But even this long after the war, there are too many Ferals about. Leonie and some others have been trying to bring them in, particularly the children, but it's a slow process. They're cunning and wild, and, incidentally, can be very dangerous. There are still weapons lying about for anyone to pick up. I don't know if you understand danger sufficiently, Patrick. Obey Leonie's instructions at all, all times."
"We Made It isn't exactly a garden world, you know," Patrick said. "And I was a spacer before I got involved in hyperdrive engineering. My life hasn't been completely sheltered."
"Those are natural dangers. Not like thinking beings, highly-intelligent beings, consciously out to get you... A spacer, yes, of course you were...
"I never asked you... " Rykermann went on after a pause. "But were you—"
"Yes. I was flying the first ship that helped stop the derelict, and the first to board it. I found Dimity."
"And without you?"
"It was heading straight for one of the gas-giants. We had quite a race to catch it and deploy the grapnels before it went too deep into the gravity-well. We kept signalling, and there was no answer..."
"You found Dimity..."
"I'll not forget going aboard, pushing through those floating eyeless corpses with their lungs going before them, those monks with their shaven heads, and my light falling on that black medical coffin, with the last lights of its emergency power blinking red. There was a translucent panel. When I saw her face I thought at first that she was dead, too, of course, but she looked so..."
"So we owe you Dimity's life."
"There were several ships and crews involved. They were all needed before we saved the ship. It wasn't just me. Others actually got her out."
"But without you she'd be dead."
"That's true."
"And without Dimity, no working hyperdrive. Not for decades at least. Not until too late."
"No. We were making slow progress translating the manual. Dimity was still in rehabilitation therapy when we got it—they were wondering what to do with her, in fact. Then she got word of what was happening somehow and forced her way onto the project. How she broke out of the hospital, evaded the medics, got into the project headquarters—all underground on a strange planet—and forced the team-leaders to give her a hearing and authority was an epic in itself. As you say, she saved us decades. Without her, we might easily be working on it still."
"And without the hyperdrive, Leonie and I would surely be dead by now, and unless we'd made Protectors Wunderland and probably Earth would be kzin hunting-grounds."
"Not to mention my own world. I was wrong to say we might be working on it still. They'd have got to We Made it, sooner or later. Probably sooner. We were behind kzin lines though we didn't know it."
"If we need to land and search for tree-of-life," said Leonie, "Or do any fighting, it might be handy to have a kzin with us."
"Apart from Vaemar there aren't that many kzinti available who we know well enough to use, not at short notice," said Rykermann. "And even on this planet, most of them still have no love for monkeys. Don't ever make the mistake of thinking the handful of Wunderkzin like Vaemar and Raargh are typical, Patrick. I know we're civilizing them, but it's a slow business..."
"I was thinking of Raargh. He knows the caves, too, and that eye of his could be useful," said Leonie. "I think the alte Teufel's bored with peace, anyway. Promise him the chance of battle, and he'd be with us. I'll call him and brief him now."
"Take care, Lion-cub." He kissed her.
* * *
"It's all so... " Patrick Quickenden waved his hands at the landscape below them, another part of the great limestone plateau which Vaemar had flown over a few days before. The sight of a herd of gagrumphers that Leonie pointed out filled him with excitement.
He's like a kid, Leonie thought. Hard to feel objectively about him. I know he loves Dimity, which makes him a sort of ally of mine—"The lover of my rival is my friend?" That's a new one. Does she love hm? Dimity, who I've competed against hopelessly since I was 18, who saved my life, apart from saving our species. Paddy, if she could love you, and you could take her back to Procyon, it would make things... And I know someone else who's in love with her, too. I wonder if he knows he is... One other, at least. That's if you don't count... Well, let's not get too complicated... Paddy, sparkle-eyed at the streams running under the sky and the gagrumphers plunging away through the trees, there's a lot riding on you...
The great problem, once you've been any sort of leader, which means once you've been any sort of manipulator: Can you again come to value people for what they are, rather than for how they might be able to serve your own ends? We forget that between men and women sexual exploitation isn't the only kind of exploitation there is. At least we do as soon as a war's over.... Now if you and Dimity... What am I thinking about? Dimity may well be dead. Patrick, you seem a happy, decent man, the product of a world less tortured than this one. Can I leave you an innocent man, not try to make you my catspaw? She caught his eyes. In love with Dimity he might be, but Leonie saw he was admiring her at least as much as the landscape. I wonder if it would turn him sick to know what's under my trousers? she thought. And then: Let me get all that boiling black stuff out of my head, anyway. Nils and I are lucky, compared to so many.
"I can never get used to it," he said. "I don't mean agoraphobia—I've had treatment for that—but still it all takes my breath away. Living on the surface like this...And"—he pointed to the horizon—"And those mountains—like needles."
"We've had to live in some odd places," said Leonie. "Sometimes during the war it seemed we were underground more often than on the surface. There were children born in the caves who knew stalactites better than stars or mountains
."
"Your children?"
"None of my own. Others had their own lives and priorities, but for us, then, it seemed children were not exactly a good idea," Leonie said. "Pregnancy would have kept me out of action for a long time, with medical care the state it was in, and... what sort of a world would it have been to bring a child into? Of course, it was fortunate not everyone on Wunderland had the same policy—the population was dropping fast as it was.
"I was going to broach the subject with Nils after the war. I'd been important enough to have geriatric drugs throughout and I still had an apparently young body, as he did. I would have run out of natural ova sooner or later, but that didn't worry me—stimulating stem cells to produce new ova is an elementary procedure. Then, you know, I lost the lot."
"That shouldn't be a problem," Patrick said. "I know that on Earth creating ova from other tissue isn't unusual. I think it's been done since the twenty-first century, at least."
"I don't think I could do that. We've been very cautious about biotech for humans here. Quite a deep cultural inhibition. The first colonists got a bit carried away and there were some—unfortunate incidents. We're lucky the only inheritance was mobile ears for some of us, which are harmless and sometimes useful even if it does encourage snobbery. But I haven't told you all the details of what I am. Perhaps I'm a bit mixed up. In my emotions as well as"—a bitter laugh—"literally. The lower body I have now is ovulating all right... whoever she was, she was young. But you'll understand I don't exactly consider it a problem solved..."
There was an awkward silence.
"Look at that!" Patrick pointed excitedly again. A smile returned to Leonie's eyes as she watched the Crashlander's excitement. Much remained park-like—woodlands, glades, small streams. Herds of gagrumphers and other creatures could be seen. There was also a scattering of human farms and hamlets. Fruit trees, and even a few vineyards for small bottlings of wine grown in the old natural way. Leonie had flown over this landscape many times, but she could still appreciate its loveliness. Humans had become human in a landscape not too unlike this. For both of them there was some touch of Eden about it.
"I can't get over it!" said Patrick. Then: "Where are the caves?"
"Underneath us. Underneath all this country. You can trace them on the deep radar."
"I'd rather just watch all this," His face was alight with wonderment. "I feel so lucky to have seen it! When this is all over I want to walk through this country. I don't think I'd get agoraphobia again, the treatments were good. I'd love to live under a sky for a while!"
"We'll be down in it shortly," Leonie said. "I hope it comes up to expectations."
Chapter 8
The tunnel was roofed over, but the grey light of the sky penetrated. There was a room at the end of the tunnel, entered through what looked like a spaceship's airlock. Power cables snaked about. There were familiar computer-screens and consoles, mostly kzin-sized and of more-or-less kzin military pattern, as well as instruments and machinery whose function neither Vaemar nor Dimity could guess at. Vaemar and Dimity were deposited there, weaponless but unharmed. As Chorth-Captain covered them with a beam rifle, the Protector removed their garments, searching them thoroughly and ripping Dimity's apart in the process—Vaemar beneath his coverall wore much less, mainly straps and pouches. It ran police tape over their hands and feet. This was specially made to restrain kzinti from using their claws, and far stronger than was necessary to immobilize a human. Then the Protector surveyed them.
So far, things had moved too fast for Vaemar or Dimity to see the Protector properly. Guthlac had surmised that it would be close to the original Pak form. For all its immense strength it was smaller than Dimity and barely half the height of either kzin, with a protruding muzzle hardened into a horny beak, a bulging, lobed, melon-like cranium, with large bulging eyes, and exaggerated ears and nostrils, part of its Morlock heritage, in a parody of a human face even more bizarre than the face of a Pak or human Protector, joints like huge balls of bone and muscle rolling below a skin like leather armor. Chorth-Captain stood beside it.
"Traitor!" Vaemar snarled at the other kzin. "You hand your own kind to alien monsters! I challenge you—to the death and the generations!"
"Traitor? Handing our kind to alien monsters? Who speaks?" Chorth-Captain replied in the Mocking Tense. "Do I speak to Vaemar, sometimes called Riit, chief kollabrratorr on Ka'ashi? Holder of a commission in the Human Reserve Officer Training Corps? Who would join our kind with the vermin of the Universe? Yes, kollabrratorr, I call you, kollabrratorr and kwizzliing, perversions that only the vermin had words for till they infected our tongue! As for your challenge, it is nothing. The mere jabbering of a Kz'eerkt-chrowler." Kz'eerkt meant "ape," "monkey" or "human." "Chrowl" depending on who used it and when, was an either intimate or obscene term among kzinti for sexual intercourse. In normal kzin society such as had existed pre-Liberation, a death-duel would inevitably have followed such an insult. Dimity thought she could feel the effort with which Vaemar controlled both his voice and his body language to reply calmly. At least he has had good training at that, she thought. Growing up among humans, learning to follow human rules—like me.
"You are brave when your monster has tied my claws," said Vaemar. "If you had wished to know why I have done as I have, and spoken with me, I could have told you my reasons. But you are one of those who weary me with your stupidity, who think with hot livers instead of brains. Who may yet be the destruction of our kind. What do you think you have done?" He gestured with his tail and ears at the Protector. "You are the slave of this thing?"
"He is an ally," replied Chorth-Captain. "It is not I who am the slave of aliens. We have watched you long, Vaemar-sometimes-called-Riit. Ka'ashi has Heroes still who do not crawl like bugs into your fur as you abase yourself before the monkeys."
The Protector gestured. Chorth-Captain disappeared for a few moments while the Protector watched them. They guessed he was attending to their car. The Protector's voice when it spoke was a series of clicks and poppings. But it spoke slowly, taking trouble, and it used what had once been called the Slave's Patois, but which was now becoming a common, value-neutral, lingua franca between humans and kzinti on Wunderland.
"Obey and you will live," it said. Its strange eyes travelled from Dimity to Vaemar and back. It was Dimity who replied.
"What do you want?"
"Teach." It touched a keyboard and a bank of screens sprang into life. Wunderland television channels and internet sites. One of them, Dimity and Vaemar saw, showed Vaemar's palace and its surroundings and outbuildings, including the guest house Dimity used. A camera somewhere in the woods. Others showed München University, including the Dimity Carmody Physics Building with its inscription.
"Teach... what?"
"Everything. You I know." It touched another keyboard. An old newsreel, showing Dimity and a group of scientists. Patrick was right, thought Dimity. It was stupid to broadcast the fact of my return to Wunderland. But too many people knew anyway.
"We have been watching you for a long time," said Chorth-Captain, returning to the room. "I supplied the original equipment, which has been improved upon. The Patriarchy will be grateful to Chorth-Captain when those improvements are incorporated into the standard equipment of our Navy. We improved surveillance and stealthing among many other things. We know much. But my ally wishes to learn more. You two are... associates"—he cast another look of loathing and contempt at Vaemar, black lips curling—"with one another. We have known for some time, and considered it advantageous for all its loathsomeness and indignity, monkey-dirt scratched upon the Name of Riit. Did you think we were careless with the trail of radioactives? We laid a trail to bring you here."
"We will need to know more," said Dimity. "Teach? Teach what?"
"Context," said the Protector. Its beak clacked over the word. "Teach about humans. About kzinti on this planet. About space." It paused. "Gods," it said, surprisingly. Then it said the word Dimity and Vaemar had
hoped against their reason not to hear. "Hyperdrive."
"I haven't the tools," said Dimity. She knew it would be pointless to play dumb. The Protector knew. Vaemar and I set ourselves up, she thought.
"Make tools," said the Protector. And then: "We have begun." It turned its back, leaving Chorth-Captain to guard them. Its fingers blurred with speed on the keyboard. Doors flashed shut almost soundlessly around them. For a moment there was a hint of G-force, gone almost instantly, and a purring noise. Both Dimity and Vaemar recognized it. They had flown in ships with kzin gravity-motors before. The panel of grey sky above was suddenly swirling with indescribable colors.
"Yes," said Chorth-Captain. "A gravity-planer. Much improved. And shielding devices, also much improved. Good enough to get us past the monkeyships and the monkeys' machine-sentinals. Again I supplied the basic equipment from kzin stores. Once I had demonstrated them to my ally he was able to make advances with them. Hear how quiet the planer has become."
"How did you meet your ally?" asked Vaemar, with a mildness, almost a casualness, in his voice that Dimity had heard once or twice before. She felt a shiver run up her spine.
"In the caves. When the traitors struck in the great battle before the humans attacked"—You don't say which side you consider the traitors, Vaemar thought—" I took a Scream of Vengeance fighter we carried and flew to the Hollow Moon. In the confusion it was not noticed there."
So, thought Vaemar. Are you a coward, Chorth-Captain, and has your knowledge of cowardice driven you mad? Or is this all a lie? The latter, he thought. Chorth-Captain's body-language suggested lying. So, he saw, did the instrumentation numbers on the bulkhead. This craft was not from a ship of one of the Ka'ashi-based squadrons. He said nothing.