Man-Kzin Wars XIII-ARC (49 page)

“Jarko-S’larbo, I presume.”

“Should I get up?” growled S’larbo, wuffling his tattooed ears.

What a fat, lazy puss, thought Flex. “Not on my account,” he said, in the Heroes’ Tongue.

With a hiss, and rapidity surprising for his size, Jarko-S’larbo bounded to his feet, baring his teeth in Flex’s face. “In my den, you do not speak unless ordered to,
kshat
.”

Flex put a hand over his mouth in deference, and S’larbo stepped back, arching his back and curling his upper lip in minor victory. At his full height, S’larbo did not appear so fat and lazy. He had flattened his fur to show off his musculature, and he turned his back dismissively.

Wheeling back, he said, “I already know what you are doing here, and I am going to stuff you for it.” S’larbo paced around Flex, whipping his hairless tail cruelly across the cuts already inflicted by the hunters. So much for the myth that the tails were useless vestiges. Flex knew better than to wince. Besides, he prided himself on his rhino hide, the extinct rhinoceros being his martial arts totem. S’larbo inspected his trophy gallery, stopping at the smallest, least-imposing creature. “I think I’ll put you here. A monkey isn’t so threatening as this pitiful specimen, but if I pose you properly, perhaps with a bigger weapon than that piss squirter you came with . . .”

“Do you think hunting these overgrown fleas was compensation for fear of real predators?” Flex said, deciding it was time to risk speaking. He used the mocking tense of the Heroes’ Tongue, to ruffle the fur.

One of the hunters knocked him to his knees, but S’larbo snarled a “Belay!”

“You know what I’m talking about,” said Flex, not getting up. “The Puppeteers are essentially hunting you to extinction. However cowardly they are, and however unfair they fight, the end result is the same.”

S’larbo licked his whiskers. “It is you humans who have hunted us for them. If they are puppeteers, then you are the puppets. And by the way, you have just confirmed that you have infiltrated this place to kill as many of our offspring as you can.”

Just as well that S’larbo bought the cover story, thought Flex. He could negotiate on that basis. “That is only partly true,” he said. “Some of us came for that purpose.” He watched for reaction, unsure whether the kzin knew about his human companions. Using the most formal words in the Heroes’ Tongue he knew, Flex said, “I myself have sworn not to kill any of your kittens on this mission.”

“We killed the other monkeys,” S’larbo said. “They landed in a secluded place nearby, while your decoy in space tried to fool us.” He hissed and spat on Flex. “You stupid monkeys! You think we are so foolish as to fall for that trick? Your cunning ways have served you long enough, but we are on to them.”

“You killed all three men?” Flex said, probing.

“There were four!”

Good, thought Flex. Not that he felt good about the others being killed and eaten, but at least they hadn’t found Annie yet.

“So you see,” S’larbo continued, “we have enough human meat to satisfy our customers’ wildest dreams, leaving you for my gallery.”

“You’ll let me go.”

S’larbo leaped into the air, turning full around and lashing Flex’s face with his tail in the process. “Ouch,” Flex said sarcastically.

“Why should I let you go?”

“Because I am not really part of this operation,” he said. “I was planted with them for a different purpose. That’s why I broke away from them before landing. In exchange for my life, I will give you whatever information you wish.”

Jarko-S’larbo turned to stoke his fire, gazing into it the way humans have done for centuries when lost in thought. He had them intrigued. Before they came to some decision, he had to play another big card, to gain what advantage he could.

“There is one more human with me,” he said. “She’s injured, and I want you to help me find her and let us go. If you do that, I promise you will find what I have to tell you well worth it. Remember, we still have a big advantage orbiting your establishment.”

“She?” S’larbo repeated, turning back to Flex, his interest piqued. Flex regretted the word instantly. “There was a female with you out in the park?” To the hunters, S’larbo said, “Go find her, before the sizzle-teeth do!”

And to Flex, “I have never tasted a human female before. She will make tonight’s dining a one-in-a-million experience for the hunters. Then maybe it will be the humans that will become extinct, starting with her.”

All three hunters pounced out to initiate a search, leaving Flex alone with S’larbo. Two guards paced at the back of the room, their hind claws clacking on the stone floor. Flex weighed his chances and concluded that he could not fight his way out of this one. His only hope of saving her lay with this whiskered slob.

“We’re not done yet,” Flex said. “Have you ever heard the saying, ‘If you need information, you need a Jinxian’? Well that’s me. That’s how I earn my kibbles and cream.”

“My grandfather had a saying, too,” S’larbo said. “‘Monkey lie, monkey die.’ Why it took so long for us to realize that you don’t think honorably the way we do I don’t know. But you can give up your feeble attempts to deceive me. I have already caught you in a lie about your numbers.”

“What if I just show you then?” Flex said. “I cannot only prove I have information that will save you from the conspiracy we both know is out there, but I can do it without leaving your den. You have nothing to lose.”

“I don’t believe for a whisker that anything you are saying is true. What kind of boneless prick begs for its life with pure deceit?”

“If we wanted to kill you and your kittens, we could have done it with heavy weapons without trying to sneak in here. Think about that. Isn’t it possible that we cooperate with the Puppeteers to learn more about them? Keep your enemies close, and all that?”

“The only information I need from you is the location of the Puppeteer home world.” Jarko-S’larbo kept his eyes narrowed on Flex, but Flex could tell that he was mulling things over. He could have ripped Flex in half at any time. “On second thought, I would also have your title.”

Names and titles were of utmost importance to kzinti, especially those who had particularly good ones. Jarko-S’larbo was a full Name, earned from a successful career as a rich businessman. S’larbo had made his fortune attracting other rich kzinti to his pleasure palace, replete with big game hunting and, evidently, kinky kzinretti.

“I have no official title,” Flex said, “because I represent no government or organization. All I can tell you about is my name.”

“You are a mercenary then,” the kzin concluded.

“My full name is Argumos Bothme, but growing up, people called me Arri. Now they call me Flex,” he translated, “because of my fighting style.”

“A warrior for hire then. Not the sort to go on a suicide mission.” S’larbo growled over the thought.

This cat is smart, Flex thought. Fewer lies, always wise.

“What is the history of ‘Bothme’?”

An odd question. The only reason Flex could imagine for the kzin’s curiosity was that he wanted to know how to label the pedestal that would soon hold Flex’s stuffed carcass.

“Bothme derives from the old English words ‘both’ and ‘me.’ My great-grandfather Argumos was an organlegger, and he had an illegal clone of himself made, so he could harvest the organs when his failed. There’s a black market for those on Jinx. For some reason the clone grew up as an independent citizen. I don’t know why; maybe Argumos was caught. Anyway, the family split from two ancestors, which Argumos called “both me,” to avoid legal battles over inheritance. To this day, none of his descendants knows which was from the original or the cloned line.”

“So you are not even a bastard, but an artificial one!” S’larbo’s hooded ears perked.

Flex shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m from the original line.”

“To be uncertain is the greatest shame imaginable. But let’s cut to the quick. If you monkeys have quick inside those pink beetles that pass for claws. Why are you here?”

“Right now, the only thing I care about is my mate, who is injured somewhere out in the jungle. She and I have a secret mission, that even the mercenaries we came with didn’t know. All they knew was that they were to help kidnap you. It was to be a surgical strike.”

“Not to kill as many kzinti as possible?”

“I’ll be honest with you. No one was concerned about collateral damage. It happens. But no, the clients that funded the mission only wanted you alive. There’s something they need from you.”

That was mostly true. Flex did not know the details, only that a Puppeteer named Hylo wanted information from S’larbo. He knew little about the peculiar two-headed creatures, and had only seen Hylo on image screens, and then only in silhouette. The information sought was about something called Zeno’s Wormhole, whatever that was. How this pompous puss came upon such esoteric data was a mystery. But then, with so many ranking kzinti passing through his lair, it made sense that he might be involved in some far-flung enterprises.

“And you don’t know why they wanted to capture me?”

“You’re rich, aren’t you? I can imagine any number of reasons.”

S’larbo roared. The sleeping female stirred, but did not wake. She only purred louder. “Do you honestly think that paltry bit of disinformation would free you?”

“Of course not. But the Puppeteer home world might.”

“Your ship has scampered away,” S’larbo said, “though that could be a ruse, just like your transparent offer. You don’t know where that home world is.”

“Not yet, but there’s a way to find out. It’s dangerous, especially for you.”

S’larbo bared his teeth and inhaled, but held his breath, ready to hiss. Good, thought Flex. He had to get through to this overgrown housecat somehow; time was running out for Annie.

“The Puppeteers targeted you for some reason,” Flex said. “I have no idea why, but we were supposed to shanghai you and turn you over to them.”

Jarko-S’larbo hissed, spattering Flex’s face. The Jinxian wiped it off and continued. “Suppose you go along with that plan, sending a decoy in your place. Then you can track the decoy right back to the Puppeteer’s home world. We’ve already got data to suggest where it is.”

“Do you now,” S’larbo said, still hissing. “Why don’t you just give me that?”

Bait taken. “I can do that here and now. Get your best astrogator in here.”

S’larbo eyed him suspiciously, but paced to a com console next to the fireplace. He pushed a button and muttered something Flex could not hear. At the same time, one of the hunters who had captured Flex returned to the gallery, and with a guard ready to cut Flex open with a beam rifle, S’larbo conferred in gruff whispers with the hunter. Then the hunter left, and the guard moved next to Flex. In a moment, another kzin entered, smaller than most. He wore a helmet on his head, not for protection in battle, but for virtual computing.

“I’d be a fool to allow you access to my network,” S’larbo said. “But First Technician can check out your story. Can you do this securely First Technician?”

“Certainly, sir. I am familiar with every cyber-trap the humans have conceived.”

That’s what you think, Flex mused. The time was ripe for him to fulfill his mission, and he was intent on doing it, whether he got out of this or not. “Start with the code for the Institute of Knowledge,” Flex instructed the technician. “But do not commit the request.”

“Done,” said First Technician, as a series of connection indicators lit to life. Then, to Jarko-S’larbo, “No risk yet, sir. Everyone uses this portal, kzinti included.”

“Now,” said Flex, “cancel the last three digits of the code.”

“Cancel them?”

“Yes. The system treats the cancel codes as additional entry codes. It doesn’t actually erase the previous three.”

First Technician looked impressed, and he exchanged glances with S’larbo.

“Now re-enter the last three digits, and commit. That will get you into the back door, and I’ll give you my personal code. Of course, the code changes each time, so you’ll need me . . .”

“Technician?”

“It may be as the human says, m’lord. It would not be a trivial conquest to penetrate the Institute of Knowledge at this level.”

“But?”

“It could be a mousetrap.”

Flex saw his opportunity waning, so he tongued his lower left molar and released a capsule that had been implanted there prior to the voyage. Then he stifled a sneeze.

Flex held a hand to his mouth. “Sorry,” he said. “I must be allergic to your technician’s fur. Some kzinti have that effect on me.”

With Annie, they might still have a chance at their first plan, to catnap S’larbo. Without her, he would at least carry out his part of the mission. Flex sneezed, then covered his mouth politely.

“Monkey tricks!” said S’larbo. “Sever the connection.”

First Technician turned a hard switch on his helmet, and the row of blinking indicators went dark.

S’larbo hissed. “My grandfather was right. Technician, dismiss! As for you, Argumos Bothme, I have decided to kill you only after you have been my guest for dinner. You see, my warriors have found your female, dead in her metal coffin. I want her on tonight’s menu while she is still fresh. What kzin can say he’s tasted a human female?”

He spat a command to someone outside the hall, and two kzinti guided a chrome-finished gravity sledge into the hall. Flex tensed as he saw Annie Venzi, still in her armor, atop the gurney. Her helmet had been removed and her eyes were closed. The sight evoked the memory of how he had fallen in love with her when they had wrestled over the last spacesuit during a decompression emergency, and his horror as she floated in vacuum, looking dead. Now her body was truly lifeless. Flex choked in horror, and felt the blood flee from his head.

“Doesn’t she look positively succulent?” S’larbo said, gnashing his fangs in mockery.

Flex shivered. He chewed the inside of his mouth, and then let out a scream of anger. At the same time, a shrill klaxon blared, and everyone leaped in alarm. Jarko-S’larbo whirled around, and the guards ran out of the hall, raising their weapons.

Rifle beams fired outside the steaming windows, and Flex came to his senses. He ran to Annie, placing one hand on her head, and the other on her suited arm. Her skin was cold.