Man-Kzin Wars XIV (8 page)

There was a stunned silence. Vaemar knew a lot more about human history than the committee did, and this was a little embarrassing. He recognized Nils and Leonie Rykermann, sitting towards the back of the room. That meant some support for him, at least. The sight of them brought back old memories.

“Hmmph. Well, be that as it may, what do you do in the Bundestag when a liberal front bencher smiles at you? Are you going to go into attack mode and rip his throat out?”

“Liberal members are not going to do much smiling at me. But in general, I agree that there is a problem. I am actually quite used to people smiling at me, and at each other in my presence. Nils and Leonie Rykermann tried not to, but they gradually forgot, and Dimity Carmody does it all the time these days. Yes, it triggers a reflex, but if you or any other human sees someone of the opposite sex who attracts you, you do not automatically commit rape. You have been socialized. It is harder for kzin, who do not socialize so readily, we are more impulsive, and it is harder for the older ones. I do not encourage human beings to show their teeth, but not because I cannot contain my reaction. It would go hard with them if they were to forget that not all kzin were socialized with human beings as much as I have been. This will gradually change as more kzin get used to the strange way you show an emotion which we express quite differently, and which we can misinterpret rather easily. But no. I shall not tear out any throats from the opposite side. Not unless they really irritate me.”

That last was Vaemar’s idea of a joke. It fell very flat. Nobody was quite sure what to do about it. He realized he had to tell them.

“That was a joke. Not a very funny one, perhaps. We kzin do not have the same sense of humor as you do, although we also react to the incongruous.”

“I would advise against humor in general.” The man with the beard looked as if it was a long time since he’d tried any.

There was a pause. The majority of the committee were obviously making up their minds that Vaemar was going to be more of a liability than an asset. As a filler question and an attempt to see if there was any prospect at all of anything positive coming out of the interview, a solidly built woman at the end asked her only question:“Do you think that kzin will more likely vote for one of their own?”

“The kzin will have no interest in the species of their representative. But once they decide to engage, almost all will vote conservative,” Vaemar assured them calmly.

The panel brightened considerably. “Why is that?” the lady chairman enquired, looking almost lively.

Vaemar thought for some seconds. What was the best way to put this so it didn’t sound terrifying? “The liberal party is very collectivist. Kzin are more individualistic. They can obey orders under a military rule, of course. But in a democracy where they are not so constrained, they will have little sympathy for a collectivist belief system.” That sounded a lot better than telling them that from a kzin perspective, herd species looked like prey and the individualists more like predators, and the kzin weren’t ever going to even consider joining the side of the prey. Besides, apart from those die-hards who regarded him as a quisling, the idea of voting against the son of Chuut-Riit and a grand-nephew of the Patriarch was literally unthinkable. Vaemar decided that this business of choosing words carefully so as to put things in a good light without telling lies was quite interesting.

“So once the kzin see that we are for genuine freedom, they will vote for us preferentially?” The man with the beard was incredulous. He hadn’t expected the kzin to show such good sense.

“Only a few deranged kzin would consider voting for the liberal party as it is at present. The old parties—the Herrenmanner and the Progressive Democrats—are shadows of their former selves, and I think will take a long time to rebuild, if they do so at all. Too many humans blame them, perhaps unfairly, for the lackadaisical pace of the original rearmament effort. There is no reason for any kzin to be interested in them. Perhaps the odd telepath. Once they can see the merit of voting at all, kzinti will overwhelmingly vote for conservatives, just as I would not consider joining the liberals.”

“And the kzinretti?”

“Those of low intelligence will either not vote or will vote as their masters direct them. The intelligent ones, the ones we call ‘the secret others’—of whom my own mate is one—will vote as they please, and any attempt to influence them would be met with defensive hostility. But there are too few of those to make a great difference. Much less than one in an eight-cubed.

“It is not just that the liberals do not conserve,” Vaemar continued. “It is not even that they are willing to destroy the ecology of the swamp as a foolish ploy to change the electorate so as to favor themselves. It is that they favor the herd against the individual. Self-respect is central to the kzin ethos. It is built into our genes. To speak candidly, all normal kzin would see liberals as perverted and disgusting and less than, well, human.” And natural prey, but he didn’t
have
to say that.

The bearded man brightened even more. That was pretty much how
he
felt about liberals.

Vaemar went on. “And if the conservative party shows the way to allowing the kzin to engage in the political life of the world, then they will change the balance here drastically.” Vaemar sounded confident. He was. The knowledge that kzin did not lie was something the committee knew and were busily factoring into their calculations. There was an excited buzz as the panel discussed these interesting points with each other in an undertone. Vaemar thought that it wasn’t necessary to point out that one of the longer-term effects would be to drive more human beings towards the liberals, and to make the liberals more individualistic and less collectivist, until one day some kzin would vote for them.
That
they could work out for themselves. Or not.

The rest of the questions were formal and nobody was very interested in the answers. The prospect of getting a fair number of new voters on the right side, their side, was absolutely irresistible.

“Thank you, Lord Vaemar, I think we have enough information to be able to come to a decision quite soon. You will be hearing from us within a day or two,” the chairman told him. She even smiled at him until she remembered, but Vaemar didn’t smile back. Nobody had bothered about the effect on human beings of a kzin smile, because when a kzin bared his teeth, it wasn’t because he was amused by something, but because he was preparing to spring. But he didn’t tear her throat out either, he just bowed politely and left.

After Vaemar had gone there were still some worried voices.

“It’s all very well to say that we’ll win even in Munchen if we get the kzin vote. What if every human being votes against any kzin? ‘Dirty ratcat-lovers.’ They could hang that label on us.”

“Who cares? Vaemar’s exploits are well-known. Including the fact that he fought beside the Rykermanns, two of our most respected leaders”—he paused and bowed to them—“and is a friend of Dimity Carmody, or Lilly the Pink, as the old song calls her—‘The savior of the ’uman race.’ Anyway, it will be a long time before we have many more kzin candidates. Just one to show we want to engage with the kzin is all we need. If he does well, it will prove our foresight and wisdom. Also, the Jotok will get the vote when they grow to sentience. It was his expedition that found and saved them—as we will emphasize to them, if he is one of our party.”

“If . . .”

“Hell, it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t even make it, and I can’t see that happening. Not many folk around here will be voting for the liberals.”

“He speaks quite well, don’t you think? Sounds educated, of course. Might go down well in the Bundestag, those bloody libs posture around as if we’re all a load of hicks. And he’s a lord or something.”

“Yeah, but can you see him on the hustings getting through to some of the old-timers who hate the kzin worse than poison? And for Pete’s sake, can you see him kissing babies?”

There was a long silence as this picture went through their minds.

“I can’t imagine many mothers offering their babies to be kissed,” someone said. “They might be unsure of getting the whole baby back.”

“Vaemar’s teacher, Rarrgh who was Rarrgh-Sergeant, saved my life when I nearly drowned in a cave in the Hohe Kalkstein,” said Leonie Rykermann. “He gave me artificial respiration, and, as you can see, he kept his claws sheathed.”

The Rykermanns’ words mattered. Almost the only figures to have fought in the Resistance from the first day to nearly the last, they were Heroes of virtually legendary stature in Wunderland’s mythology.

Opinion was divided. “Perhaps we should ask Nils Rykermann’s opinion?” the abbot suggested quietly. This looked to be an excellent idea, and the committee brightened again.

“Professor Rykermann, do you have any views on the candidacy of Lord Vaemar?” the bearded man asked.

“To reject Vaemar’s candidacy will hardly improve man-kzin relations on this planet,” Nils Rykermann told them. “There are kzin on Wunderland, on Tiamat, and in the asteroids of the Serpent Swarm, who would like to be good, constructive citizens. Some, I am told, worked to rescue humans in the devastation after the UNSN Ramscoop Raid. Already many of them work on human projects, and not a few in positions of trust.”

Leonie interjected. “Rarrgh, Vaemar’s . . .” Leonie could not think of the correct word—
major domo
seemed faintly ridiculous and few here would know what
verderer
meant—“chief servant, twice saved my life. The first time he stopped me from drowning, the second time he ran through fire and helped Dimity Carmody give me resuscitation when the traitor Henrietta wounded me.” She had also saved the life of the kitten, its legs broken by the Morlocks and kept for live meat, who grew to be Karan, but modesty prevented her mentioning it.

A murmur ran through the gathering. The name of Dimity Carmody, the genius who deciphered the alien theory behind the first hyperdrive shunt, was a potent one here.

“Where is Dimity now?” someone asked.

“She is Vaemar’s guest, and also his Ph.D. supervisor,” said Leonie. “He has placed a guest-house in his palace at her disposal. She has the use of the laboratory and instruments. I believe ARM is aware of the situation.”
And has probably planted something the size of a grain of rice under the skin between her shoulderblades,
thought Nils,
to track her movements and to detonate if she looks like leaving the planet without permission. Neater than a Zrrow. But it would be tactless to mention that now
.

The testimony of the Rykermanns, and the name of Dimity Carmody, had done much to swing the meeting.

“He may need a bit of coaching,” the bearded man said eventually. “But there are quite a few kzin around here, and a helluva lot more spread around the planet. I say we should go for him. And just think of the look on the chancellor’s face when our boy gets up to speak.”

Vaemar and the abbot got out of the air-car and looked at the stockade. “You are sure this is in my electorate?” Vaemar asked. “It’s a long way to the abbey and Grossgeister Swamp.”

“Your electorate is pretty open-ended. I don’t think officialdom knows about this place yet, it’s too far away. But the villagers have been trading gold and precious stones for some months now, and buying all manner of things from horses to newspapers.”

“Will they still hate all kzin, do you think? They must have come here to escape the Occupation in the first place,” Vaemar wanted to know.

“There’s your answer.” The abbot pointed to a tall, bulky figure coming down to the stockade from the hills. It walked lithely and confidently. It saw them and headed straight for them. Vaemar moved in front of the abbot and patted his holster.

“Ho, kzin warrior, what do you here? The kzin is a mighty hunter!” Vaemar asked in the formal tense. The kzin’s eye caught the red fur on Vaemar’s chest, and his ear-tattoos. He began to go down in the prostration until Vaemar stayed him with a gesture. “Dominant One . . .” he began in the old style.

“That is not necessary,” Vaemar reassured him. “We live in modern times now.”

“Greetings, then, Great One and Human. I am Rrhougharrrt, the sheriff of this town. I keep the Judge’s Law.” Ruat showed them his badge with pride.

“I am standing for election for this district,” Vaemar explained. “I would like to talk to the town, if that can be done without alarming the people here.”

Ruat gave a very human shrug, although on rather a large scale. “I know nothing of elections and districts, Great One. I will take you to the judge, who will decide. Follow me.”

They followed him to the gate, which was opened to allow them in by a gatekeeper who addressed Ruat in familiar tones. “Hi, Ruat, got some more visitors to join us?”

“I know not, Hans, but the Hero is of royalty. I take them to the judge.”

Boniface and Vaemar were admitted with a polite nod, and the gate closed behind them. They looked around. It was somewhere halfway between a shantytown and a well-designed minor city. The houses were a bit rough but were in the process of being spruced up. Children and kzin kits played together in the streets, the kits with buttons on their claws and Vaemar had seldom seen anything like it: man and kzin living together and a kzin sheriff who seemed to be on good terms with everbody. The kids showed not the slightest fear of him; they seemed to see him as a protector. They waved at him and
smiled
. And the kzin waved back and flipped an ear at them. Unbelievable.