Larry Niven’s Man-Kzin Wars - VII

by Hal Colebatch, Mark O Martin, Gregory Benford, Paul Chafe

  “Lasers still operational?”

  “Yes, at half power,” Carol replied, and raised a jet black eyebrow.

  Neither of them mentioned the larger problem. With one of the superconductive wings gone, it would be nearly impossible for Dolittle to decelerate to nonrelativistic speeds in a straight line. They would be turning to port as they slowed.

  Carol fired another laser blast at the icon of the kzin singleship, while Bruno scratched his interface socket idly. He powered up particle-beam and X-ray pump bomblets. The laser array powered by their remaining superconductive wing was their major weapon, but Bruno wanted all of Dolittle’s armament available at Carol’s whim.

  He smiled to himself. Carol was actually doing quite well, considering that Dolittle was supposed to be piloted by a non-brain-damaged and fully Linked Bruno Takagama.

  Suddenly, their crash couches tightened around them as the universe seemed to jerk and twist violently—then relax again. Alarms buzzed and whooped in the tiny cabin of Dolittle. Alert windows automatically opened on the main holoscreen, displaying schematics and updated diagnostics.

  “Censored dammit,” Carol shouted, her hands freezing on her console for a moment in sheer Belter reflex. “What’s going on?” Even as she spoke, her hands were dancing across her console to look for the answer.

  Carol fell silent as she stared at the forward holoscreen windows. Almost as an afterthought, she slammed a keypad with her fist, silencing the alarms.

  Bruno did not believe the readings, nor the screen.

  “Carol,” he said softly, in wonder. He shook his head.

  “Bruno,” she replied in flat tones, looking at the realtime forward window in the holoscreen, “would you please tell me what you are seeing?” He could hear her swallow over the low rustle of the ventilation system. “I want to know if I am going schitz.”

  “Our velocity appears to no longer be zero point seven C,” Bruno said, staring openly at the normal-appearing starscape, not squashed or altered by relativistic speeds. “The superconductive wing batteries are no longer drawing significant power, again suggesting that our velocity is no higher than zero point one C.” He paused. “That means the weapons systems are inoperable.”

  Carol shrugged at Bruno’s last comment, her fingers dancing across her console. “Worry about that later, Bruno. Putting fusion drive on standby,” she said crisply, as the sensation of gravity faded. Then, the dropping elevator sensation of free fall. “Is the kzin singleship still there?”

  “Yes,” he replied, still dazed. “It appears to be in the same position, relative to us, as before the…incident.” Bruno watched the datastream next to the kzin icon in the Tactical window for a moment. “It does not appear to be maneuvering. It’s stationary…as we are, apparently.”

  Still feeling very odd, Bruno busied himself with collecting and analyzing the last few minutes of shipboard time. After a moment, Carol reached across and pinched his arm, very hard.

  “Bruno!”

  “Yes?” he answered politely.

  “What is that thing off to starboard?” She pinched him again, still harder, when he didn’t answer.

  “Oh, that.”

  “Yeah, that.”

  “It appears to be an alien spacecraft or other artifact.” He paused, cleared his throat loudly, and consulted his console holoscreens with exaggerated caution. “Approximately one hundred kilometers across.”

  • CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Rrowl-Captain, eyes wide in fear, stared at his status viewscreen. He shrieked anger and surprise, then retched painfully with his growing sickness. The spasms subsided after a moment.

  Time was growing very short indeed.

  What power could have instantaneously stopped both Sharpened-Fang and his cowardly monkey prey dead-still in interstellar space? Kinetic potential was awesome at near luminal velocities. He didn’t know the method, but clearly, the new and unknown spacecraft was the culprit.

  The intruder vessel was the size of a small moon, and looked more like a crowded city than a spacecraft. Magnification showed spires and squarish buildings, open areas and domes, tiny motes of light that moved above and through the huge construct. Thin spidery webs extending from the main body of the vessel glowed incandescently in high infrared, bleeding off waste heat into interstellar space. Instruments showed that the moon-ship kept an ambient temperature of forty divisions above Total Cold.

  Rrowl-Captain bared his aching fangs, slowly. Monkeys could not have built this ship. Nor could kzin, even as favored sons of the One Fanged God. No race Rrowl-Captain knew of could construct such a vessel.

  Perhaps the intruders had intervened on the monkeys’ behalf. Rrowl-Captain coughed again, spitting blood.

  Memories of greenish light flared in the back of his mind. It would explain much.

  He snarled as he pulled out another handful of fur with his blistered fingers. He gulped a few more of his antiradiation capsules, straggling to keep them inside his traitor belly, though the capsules only slowed the inevitable.

  No, thought Rrowl-Captain on further reflection, the intruder spacecraft was not intervening on the side of the human monkeys. If that had been their alien intention, surely Rrowl-Captain and Sharpened-Fang would even now be mingled as thoroughly dispersed vapor. That was as clear as the fangs in his own jaws.

  The intruders were simply meddlers.

  Rrowl-Captain consulted his thinplate console. The forward screen revealed the monkeyship hanging dead in space. Even dying of radiation sickness, the captain smiled and rambled in kzin humor. If the monkeys were not moving, then their power source was inactive.

  Meddlers or no meddlers, Rrowl-Captain was going to complete his ceremonial kill. He would be unable to place human ears on his trophy loop, but he would accomplish a task almost as tasty. A final delicacy, in honor of his litter-brother.

  With trembling claws, the captain warmed up the strained gravitic polarizer and put the weapons panel on standby. Within a few moments, Rrowl-Captain would finish his scream-and-leap, weapons firing, and destroy the monkey vessel. Then he would deal with these meddling intruders.

  A yowling alarm tone halted Rrowl-Captain’s ready claw poised over the initiate keypad.

  He looked up with a snarl, and saw many octal-squared of nightmare black shapes blotting out the stars, living creature flying through empty space toward Sharpened-Fang.

  Magnification and vector analysis showed the hordes to originate from the intruder moon-ship. The intruder aliens were even uglier than Jotoki, Rrowl-Captain realized with a hiss of distaste. Thick central stalks surrounded by an octal-and-half of sinuous tendrils—yet bearing tools and wearing harnesses.

  Powerful or not, Rrowl-Captain could not let these aliens threaten a Hero’s vessel, nor his own plans. He reoriented the weapons panel and prepared to fire.

  • CHAPTER TWENTY

  Like Bruno, Carol was still dazed by the sudden appearance of the titanic alien ship that had somehow halted them in space and now held position, motionless, ten thousand kilometers to starboard. She slowly turned to Bruno, who appeared to be recovering from the shock of the past few minutes. At least he was reviewing data instead of staring blankly at the strangely unshifted stars in the holoscreen.

  “Where is the ratcat ship?”

  Her lover shook his head slightly, tapped on a few keypads. A red circle appeared in the holoscreen. “Just under two hundred kilometers dead ahead, right where it was when things got…well, weird.”

  Weird was the right word, Carol thought. How could Dolittle go from 0.7c to dead stop in a second?

  She peered at the portion of the holoscreen indicating the kzin singleship for a moment or two, looking for activity. “Looks like the ratcat isn’t moving, either.”

  “Maybe it’s just as surprised by recent events as we are.”

  Carol mulled that one over, then decided to change the subject. She put an autowatch subroutine on the kzin singleship that would set off alarms if the ratcat v
essel moved or showed activity. Carol then highlighted the huge alien ship.

  “Well, Bruno,” she asked brightly, “what do you think?”

  Bruno could not tear his eyes from the holoscreen windows. “Like you said, Captain-my-captain. It’s the size of a moon.”

  “A small moon.”

  “Sure. But what’s the point of a spacecraft a hundred kilometers across?”

  Bruno had made a good point, Carol thought. Further, the alien vessel looked more like a city or hive of insects than a spacecraft. There were what appeared to be buildings and domes across its broad and complex expanse. It was baroque and ornate, like some windup Victorian Christmas tree ornament out of a history chip.

  “Notice the weblike structures?” Bruno indicated a portion of the realtime magnified view of the moon-ship. “Look at them in IR.”

  In infrared, the complex webs all over the moon-ship were hundreds of degrees warmer than the rest of the vessel.

  “Heat exchangers?” she asked.

  Bruno nodded. “I’m betting that they are particularly hot now, after…stopping us a bit ago. That must have taken a lot of energy.”

  Carol noticed flocks of tiny lights moving around the spires of the gigantic alien ship. “What are those?”

  “No idea,” Bruno replied, tweaking the image enhancers. Magnification did not help, only revealing blurred glowing shapes that darted and swooped like living things around upper portions of the moon-ship.

  Bruno finally asked the question. “What do we do?”

  “Nothing,” she replied. “Let them make the first move.” Carol reached over and stroked his arm gently. “Face it, Tacky. Whatever they are, they’re much more powerful than me and thee. They could swat us to paste anytime. I would rather wait, peacefully, to see what they want with us.”

  Bruno nodded slowly.

  “I just feel stupid and helpless,” he finally said, looking away. “I used to know almost everything.”

  “But only when you were part machine. I like you better as a human.” She moved his lips into a smile with her fingers and was rewarded by the real thing.

  “Carol?”

  Bruno gestured at the holoscreen with a nervous finger.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “The kzin ship is getting visitors.”

  Long-range scanning showed at least one hundred small objects flying toward the kzin singleship from the huge alien vessel. Extreme magnification showed vague dusky shapes with many arms flitting across the starry blackness. They rotated smoothly as they flew, arms stretched out radial fashion for stability.

  “Those must be our new friends,” Bruno commented.

  Carol said nothing, biting her lip. They would get some idea of the new aliens’ intentions from their actions toward the kzin singleship. They must have been moving very quickly to be so close to the ratcat vessel.

  A low warning tone sounded.

  Carol made a face as she studied the holoscreens. “Looks as if we are going to be entertaining a few visitors of our own,” she said, pointing at a small cloud of dots on the short-range scanner window in the main holoscreen. The cloud was growing closer to Dolittle by the second, decelerating rapidly.

  “Still want me to do nothing?” Bruno asked.

  Carol nodded. “Watch the ratcat ship.”

  As the flock of aliens approached the kzin singleship, it began to move, maneuvering away with its reactionless drive. Extreme magnification showed a pale purple beam of light stretching from one of the tiny hydra shapes to the kzin spacecraft. The whole vessel glowed purple for a moment, then the slight aura faded.

  The singleship halted and hung motionless in space. Long-range scanners showed that all electronic emissions from the kzin vessel had ceased. The droves of tiny shapes merged with it.

  “As I mentioned,” Carol remarked conversationally, “I suspect it would be wise to do nothing.”

  Bruno smiled without showing his teeth. “Hold that thought, Carol. Our visitors have arrived.” He gestured to a holoscreen window displaying a view of the external hull. Many-armed shapes swarmed past the cameras.

  “Follow them with the hull cameras, please.”

  Bruno set up a series of small windows in the holoscreen displaying the external hull of Dolittle. The windows showed weaving tendrils, rapid activity.

  “Switch to infrared,” Carol said after a while. Perhaps the aliens would show up better in the longer wavelengths.

  One by one, the windows went blank, showing the multicolored snowy display of holographic static.

  “What happened?” she rapped.

  “Hardware failure. They’re doing something to the ship.”

  Before Carol could say anything else, the external long-range scanners failed. Then weapons-status telemetry.

  She unstrapped and floated over to a supply locker.

  “What are you doing?” Bruno asked her, unstrapping himself and joining her.

  “Going to suit up and try and convince the uglies on the hull to stop what they are doing. Force of my commanding personality, that sort of thing, you know.”

  Her lover frowned. “You know that I can’t Link right now, and you are better behind the console. Let me go outside. I need you at the console, to get us out of here if necessary.”

  His glance speared her heart.

  For a moment, Carol was busy repressing her odd mix of maternal and sexual feelings that Bruno brought out in her. If they survived, she would take the confusion up with her autodoc psychiatric module at length.

  “Go,” the Captain persona inside her finally said. “But be careful, Tacky,” her deeper self appended. “I need you, too.”

  Bruno gave her a quick hug, and she efficiently helped him into his spacesuit.

  “Oh,” Carol added conversationally, “you might want to take this, too.” She pressed an electron-beam rifle into his hands. Bruno took it awkwardly, then slung it over his shoulder.

  The main computer reset itself, then fell to fifty percent processing capacity. More warning tones began to sound.

  “You had better hurry,” Carol said softly, “while we can still cycle the airlock.”

  Bruno started to dog his helmet shut and entered the airlock. He paused and turned back to Carol. She smiled at his look.

  “I love you, too,” she said simply.

  Carol kept a smile on her face until she heard the hatch close firmly. Then she blinked a few times to clear the tears that pooled in her eyes in the microgravity, and strapped back into her crash couch. After a moment she swept her hands across the main console, to see what systems remained responsive.

  • CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Bruno opened the outer airlock door of Dolittle.

  “Carol,” he whispered over the suit commlink.

  “I’m here, lover.” Her voice buzzed in his headset.

  “I’m leaving the airlock now. You getting video?”

  “Affirmative.”

  Bruno clumsily lifted himself out of the airlock and locked down his magnetic boots on the dark hull of Dolittle. The riot of distant stars all around him shone down indifferently. This was deep space, with no friendly sun for light-years.

  Over to one side, as large as the full Moon seen from faraway Earth, shone the glittering lights of the alien vessel.

  Their own ship was a dark blur. He tongued his video amplifiers, repressed a gasp. The aliens thronged the hull of Dolittle, too many to count.

  “Are you getting this?” he breathed.

  “Yes,” buzzed Carol’s short reply.

  The aliens stood perhaps a meter and a half in height. They looked like cat-o’-nine-tails bullwhips, overly thick handle down and whips flailing about like snakes. Each whip end unraveled in a fractal series of smaller tendrils, final fingerlets clearly adept at manipulation. The aliens wore ornate harnesses, studded with bulging pockets and metallic-looking triangular shapes. On a hunch, he tongued his helmet visuals to infrared IR and saw that the metal triangles were n
early seventy degrees warmer than the whip-aliens themselves.

  Heat exchangers, like the spidery constructions on the moon-ship. This was confirmed when one of the aliens landed on the hull of Dolittle twenty meters from Bruno, arms down, and the triangular shapes on its harness blazed under IR to shed the heat.

  Under infrared, the aliens were much more than black ropy shapes. Delicate traceries of relative warmth pulsed beneath their cold skin, like some sort of circulatory system. Portions of their alien anatomies were clearly intended to remain much colder than others.

  Bruno watched one of the aliens remove a complicated shape from a pocket and touch it to an open section of Dolittle’s hull. The shape smoothly changed shape and extended a questing projection, like a living thing. It thrust into what Bruno realized was part of Dolittle’s main sensory net. That alien’s heat exchangers glowed. Other aliens continued to enlarge the open section under study, methodically taking the hull apart with strange tools. Other aliens ran snaky arms and odd objects over the disassembled parts.

  “Carol,” he whispered. “You still with me?”

  “Right.”

  “Looks like they are studying our electronics. That must be what is shutting things down.”

  “You think they mean to shut us down?” came Carol’s voice, peppered with static, but still soft in his ears.

  “Doubtful. If they wanted to kill us, they would have quite a while ago. I just think they’re curious.”

  “So why aren’t they paying attention to you?”

  Bruno didn’t say anything in reply. Several more of the aliens came over the curving hull of Dolittle, moving quickly in a series of somersaults. They crowded around the alien who had tapped into the shipboard sensory net.

  Fascinated despite himself, Bruno watched IR patterns shift and change across their alien skin. Waving tendrils danced fluidly. Bursts of static hissed and crackled in his ears. Communications?

  “Bruno!” Carol’s voice was suddenly grim.

  “I’m here,” he said, trying to sound calm.