Man-Kzin Wars XIV (5 page)

“He can hardly
know
anything,” Grün said carefully. “I agree he seems to have some definite suspicions. His closing remarks were tantamount to an accusation, but he was not as explicit as he would surely have been did he have any hard evidence. Oh, I don’t blame you,” said Grün. “I remember what we were promised: estates and slaves of our own on Earth or Wunderland if we cooperated, dinner in the officers’ mess if we didn’t. It wasn’t a difficult choice. Oh yes, we should have been good scouts and defied Ktrodni-Stkaa! Ktrodni-Stkaa, whom even other kzin were terrified of!”

Von Höhenheim glared. His mind was working hard.

Abbot Boniface walked in the abbey grounds with Vaemar. It was night, and the stars glittered above them in eternal silence. The orange exhaust flame of a chemical rocket vanished skyward. Somewhere, far beyond the range of visual sight, human and kzin fleets might be locked in battle. Splashes from the fenced-off Jotok ponds suggested the young amphibians were busy.

“Yes, I did tell that nice couple that you should go into politics. I don’t for a moment suppose you want to. Anybody who
does
want to go into politics shouldn’t be allowed to. But you are needed. It’s your duty, in my view.”

Vaemar made a noise in the back of his throat that could almost have been a growl. Kzin have a clear grasp of the concept of duty; in Vaemar’s view, this was a dirty card to play.

“You will have to convince me of that. I have a duty to put my mind to use in mathematics also. That is ultimately much more important than politics.”

“More important, yes, I grant you that. Mathematics is one of the bases for our civilization and has been since Euclid, and making a contribution to it is certainly important. But not as
urgent
as making a contribution to good government. Ignore the political environment and you will find that your mathematical work is unfinished because of the meddling of the ignorant. Things like that have happened in the history of both our species, as you know. Didn’t the kzin equivalent of universities start because kzin with a bent for mathematical thought were forced to flee into the wilderness to escape the incessant challenges to death-duels? As our Archimedes was killed by a conquering soldier at the fall of his city. Wernher von Braun nearly died at the bombing of Peenemunde. If that had happened, we would hardly be talking together today.”

“No. My Sire would have had vast estates on Earth.”

“And you would have had eights of ambitious elder brothers between you and the throne, as you yourself have observed. You are an eccentric, Vaemar, a misfit like your friend Dimity. Like Karan, for that matter. And you know what happens to misfits in the Patriarchy.”

Vaemar knew very well. He would have had difficulty surviving, even with his illustrious family to protect him.

The abbot pressed his point. “Your work might even be destroyed, labelled as
kzin
mathematics and consequently not real, proper
human
mathematics at all, since your arithmetic is on base eight or for some other rationalization.” The abbot put his hand up. “No, you don’t have to tell me that the idea is insane, I know that, but there are some insane people about. And there have been such arguments before. Einstein’s theories were banned in Nazi Germany as Jewish physics. In fact, you could say that the whole idea of government is to keep fools, knaves and lunatics from disturbing their neighbors. And if no intelligent being will contribute to government because other things are more fun, and, in the long run we may never have, more important, then those who
do
take power will be all fools, knaves or lunatics. It has happened in the past.”

“But I shouldn’t be any good at it,” Vaemar protested. “I know what is required, I have seen enough human politicians to know. Compromise and lies. Those are the foundations of politics. And I cannot lie. My honor does not permit me.” Vaemar made that noise in his throat that the abbot correctly translated as intense distaste. “I speak not only of human politics. I was too young to be aware of the intrigues that filled my Sire’s palace, but I have learned much since—our Heroes sent out on wars of conquest for glory, yes, and for land and slaves, and to expand our Empire up the spiral arm, but also simply to keep them out of the way. A warrior doctrine whose purpose was to have rival claimants to the throne kill each other off! The mass-production of dead Heroes who are so much less inconvenient than live ones. And even that was more honorable than what a politician has to do in a democracy.”

Abbot Boniface smiled to himself. A human who spoke of his honor would have rung alarm bells, but for a kzin it was perfectly natural. “But you can compromise. You can accept the good without rejecting it in favor of unattainable perfection. You, perhaps you alone, have enough insight into both kzin and man to see another point of view. And the fact that you cannot lie is a great strength. Oh yes,” Boniface said wryly, “I know that the main method of politicians has usually been to let everyone think that you are on their side. Shading the truth at best, downright misleading lies at worst. Trying vainly to be all things to all men. But both man and kzin have a respect for those who tell the truth as they believe it to be. Our best statesmen in the past have usually been like that. They have told the truth and argued honestly for what they believed to be right, and the power of honest belief can accomplish much. I know. In my own small way I am a politician, you see.

“Sometimes. I have to guide and advise, I seldom command. And when I do, it is after much earnest reflection and prayer. It needs a good deal of faith in my own judgment, and I have a great talent for doubt.”

“Look out! Get behind me!” Vaemar had dropped into a fighting crouch. His claws were extended and his
wtsai
had appeared like magic in his paw.

“Tigrepard!” The abbot could see nothing but a hint of something yellowish-red in the long grass of the garth. Vaemar screamed and leapt. In an instant the two great felinoids were locked in battle, flattening the plants. The abbot groped for his own weapon, but he could not use it for fear of hitting Vaemar.

It was over in an instant. The tigrepard was a big one, but Vaemar was bigger and quicker. He stood back, panting a little, as it died, then removed the ears.

“Your defenses are not all they should be, father,” he remarked. “I noticed a patch of the west wall looked rather tumble-down.”

“And you have reminded me what the price may be for relaxing eternal vigilance,” said the abbot, holding his voice steady with an effort. “I would not have lasted long on my own. I shall have a repair party to the west wall tomorrow.”

“No, father, not tomorrow, tonight. At this time of year tigrepards travel in prides. But sweep the grounds first of all.”

“I am in no position to disregard your advice. You seem to know a lot about them.”

“Of course. We are cats, too.”

Vaemar watched the sweeping of the monastery grounds by parties of well-armed novices under the eyes of the monastery’s hunters, and then turned back to the abbot. What had he been saying? Ah, yes, he’d talked of doubt.

“But how can you maintain your faith in the Bearded God if you are troubled by doubts? Don’t you doubt His very existence?”

“Oh, lots of times. I think He wants me to. So I am not
troubled
by doubts; if God didn’t want me to doubt, I wouldn’t be able to. He wants me to pursue truth, and that inevitably requires doubt about everything. There was a time once when I suddenly realized that I was in danger of becoming an atheist for religious reasons. When I saw it in those terms, I laughed for a week, and felt the inner warmth that told me God was pleased that I had seen the joke. But we are getting off the subject, and although I would be very proud if I managed to convert you, I don’t expect to do so any time soon. So we shall leave the theology for another time and return to the politics, if you will.

“We live in very interesting times, as the old Chinese curse had it. And hence very dangerous times. We need the very best brains to see the possibilities and to guide the people wisely. We need a kzin in our political system very badly, and no other is as well suited as you. That is why I think it is your duty.”

Vaemar pondered. The abbot was a wise man, Vaemar could sense it. He was also a good man, a man of integrity and honor. A strange sort of honor; turning the other cheek when struck was something hard to even think about. Vaemar sensed that there was something deep about this, something even few human beings could fully grasp. To not fight back when you could, that was paradoxical, but maybe it was a very clever strategy. Perhaps it was something to do with destroying your enemy by turning him into a friend. He would think about this some time.

But was the abbot right? Was it truly urgent that he play a role in the political turmoil? His instincts were violently opposed to the very thought. And yet . . . Sometimes the instincts were wrong and had to be bridled. Human beings were good at doing that, often too good. Kzin didn’t get a lot of practice. Maybe they weren’t good enough. And it would certainly be needed if he were in politics. And he, Vaemar, was much better than any other kzin he knew at holding off the gut reaction and taking time for reflection. The cortico-thalamic pause, as an ancient Earth writer had called it. Vaemar’s sire had seen this as one of the strengths of man, and one he wanted his people to acquire. Perhaps, Vaemar thought, he
was
the right kzin for the job.

“How is this done, this becoming a politician?” Vaemar asked cautiously.

“The local member of the bundestag, a conservative, died last week. Old age officially, exacerbated by the time under Occupation. We shall be having a by-election within a month. I would strongly support your candidature for the conservative party. There is a natural platform already made. The liberals are planning to drain part of Grossgeister Swamp, and we are mounting opposition. I take it that you are not in favor of draining the swamp?”

“It would be madness. We have a rich and wonderful ecology here, which would be devastated. What are they thinking of?”

“Building housing for the poor, who are more likely to vote for them, so as to change this electorate to give a majority who would support them. They know the locals oppose the idea, and are playing it as being kind to those who have to live in tumbledown slums in Munchen.”

“Well, why not improve the housing in Munchen?”

“Needed for commercial purposes. So they say. I think it’s because they have a huge majority in the city and want to take some of it away from where it is wasted and gain another electorate. This one is big in area but sparsely populated.”

Vaemar thought hard. The abbot was a clever man. He knew what Vaemar would think about draining the swamp, and was putting his case for Vaemar fighting it officially. There might be good arguments in favor of draining the swamp, but if it was a political gambit then he, Vaemar, would fight it tooth and claw. Metaphorically only, of course. More prosaically, he’d be using words. But words, he knew, could be as powerful as teeth or claws or much heavier weapons. A kzin warrior training, at his level, required an understanding of how to motivate troops, of how to get the best out of them using words and body language.

These things had been neglected the first time the kzin found themselves in a serious war. Too many of their aristocrats and young officers desperate for Names had been unable to propose a plan in such a way that their staff dared to point out potential weaknesses. Rarrgh had told him: “I have seen many die from that mistake.” This was, perhaps, not altogether different. Thinking of it as combat, using ideas and words as weapons, somehow made him feel a lot better about it. He would vanquish his opponents! Not as satisfying as physical combat, but more real and with more serious consequences than chess.

“Very well, my friend and adviser. If you truly believe it is my duty and that I am needed, then I will do it, though it will sadden me greatly to take time from mathematics and history. And I rather think that if I go down this path, I shall have little time for anything else. What exactly must I do?”

Boniface smiled, as much as anyone ever does when facing a kzin. His mouth turned up at the corners and his eyes crinkled. “Thank you, my friend and one-time student. I believe it is the best thing for all of us on Wunderland that you do this. I shall put your name forward to the committee. They will have several candidates, I daresay, and the selection committee will interview all of them. I shall have to explain rather a lot of things to you.”

“So there is hope for me. The selection committee may reject me,” Vaemar reflected out loud.

“They might be that stupid. I don’t think so, but it is possible. It depends on the alternatives. You will, of course, do your best to get selected.”

“Yes, of course,” Vaemar said without any enthusiasm. And he would indeed have to do his best, any less would be dishonorable. Whatever doing his best might mean.

“What is it that makes this urgent?” Vaemar asked.

The abbot looked up at the silent stars. “Many small things. And just possibly one big thing. You know I have many sources of information, some not perhaps as reliable as others. And urgent is a word with many nuances.”

“I do not understand you,” Vaemar told him.

The abbot sighed. “There are some hints, some fragments which I have pieced together. I may be wrong. I hope I am.”

“Go on.”

“I have some reason to think there may be something out there. Further along the spiral arm. Something coming this way. You know, of the few sentient species in the galaxy that we have ever recorded, the thing I notice is how much we share. We can understand in some limited way what sort of things drive us. All men are brothers. Well, cousins at least, and we know this from genetics. But it goes deeper than that. You and I are very different in our genetics, but the universe has shaped us, and we have responded in ways which although different show striking similarities. We are both made up of star-stuff, both evolved in the Goldilocks Zone through similar sets of fantastic improbabilities. We both understand what truth and honor and justice mean, and they are important to both of us. You have your Fanged God, and we our Bearded God, but they might almost be two faces of the same entity. Both of them demand truth, honor and justice of us.”