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to the Cause as might be hoped. In terms of realpolitik, it iss to be
eggspected, particularly of the common folk when so many of deir superiors
haff decided that collaboration wit'
the kzin is an unavoidable necessity." The faded blue eyes blinked at him.
"Not an unreasonable supposition, when Earth has abandoned us-until now . . .
Zo, of the ones willing to help, many are merely the lawless and corrupt.
Motivated by money; vell, if one must shovel manure, one uses a pitchfork."
Jonah smiled and nodded, grasping the meaning if not the agricultural
metaphor.
And the end justifies the means. My cheeks are starting to hurt. "Well, I have
my mission to perform. On a need-to-know basis, let's just say that Lieutenant
Raines and I have to get to Wunderland, preferably to a city. With cover
identities, currency, and instructions to the underground there to assist us,
if it's safe enough to contact."
"Vell." Markham seemed lost in thought for moments.
"I do not believe ve can expect a fleet from Earth. They would have followed
on the heels of the so-effective attack, and such would be impossible to hide.
You are an afterthought." Decision, and a mouth drawn into a cold line. "You
must tell me of this mission before scarce resources are devoted to it."
"Impossible. This whole attack was to get Ingri-the lieutenant and me to
Wunderland." Jonah cursed himself for the slip, saw
Markham's ears twitch slightly. His mouth was dry, and he could feel his
vision focusing and narrowing, bringing the aquiline features of the guerrilla
chieftain into closer view.
"Zo. This I seriously doubt. But ve haff become adept at finding answers, even
some kzin haff ve persuaded." The three "aides" drew their weapons, smooth and
fast; two stunners and some sort of homemade dart-thrower. "You vill answer.
Pozzibly, if the answers come quickly and wizzout damage, I vill let you
proceed and giff you the help you require. This ship vill be of extreme use to
the
Cause, vhatever the bankers and merchants of Earth, who have done for us
nothing in fifty years of fighting, intended. Ve who haff fought the kzin vit'
our bare hands, while Earth did nothing, nothing . . ."
Markham pulled himself back to self-command. "If it is inadvisable to assist
you, you may join my crew or die." His eyes, flatly dispassionate, turned to
Ingrid. "You are from zis system. You also vill speak, and then join or . . .
no, there is always a market for workable bodies, if the mind is first
removed.
Search them thoroughly and take them across to the
Nietzsche in a bubble." A
sign to his followers. "The first thing you must learn, is that I am not to be
lied to."
"I don't doubt it," Jonah drawled, lying back in his crashcouch. "But you
can't take this ship."
"Ah." Markham smiled again. "Codes. You vill furnish them."
"The ship," Ingrid said, considering her fingertips, "has a mind of its own.
You may test it."
The Wunderlander snorted. "A zelf-aware computer?
Impozzible. Laboratory curiosities."
"Now that," the computer said, "could be considered an insult, Landholder Ulf
Reichstein-Markham." The weapons of Markham's companions were suddenly thrown
away with stifled curses and cries of pain.
"Induction fields . . . Your error, sir. Spaceships in this benighted vicinity
may be metal shells with various systems tacked on, but I am an organism. And
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you are in my intestines."
Markham crossed his arms. "You are two to our four, and in the same
environment, so no gases or other such may be used. You vill tell me the
control codes for this machine eventually; it is easy to make such a device
mimic certain functions of sentience. Better for you if you come quietly."
"Landholder Markham, I grow annoyed with you," the computer said.
"Furthermore, consider that your knowledge of cybernetics is fifty years out
of date, and that the kzin are a technologically conservative people with no
particular gift for information systems. Watch."
A railgun yapped through the hull, and there was a bright flare on the flank
of the stubby toroid of Markham's ship. A voice babbled from the handset at
his belt, and the view in the screen swooped crazily as the Catskinner dodged.
"That was your main screen generator," the computer continued. "You are now
open to energy weapons. Need I remind you that this ship carries more than
thirty parasite-rider X-ray lasers, pumped by one-megaton bombs? Do we need to
alert the kzin to our presence?"
There was a sheen of sweat on Markham's face. "I haff perhaps been somevhat
hasty," he said flatly. No nonsentient computer could have been given this
degree of initiative. "A fault of youth, as mein mutter is saying." His accent
had become thicker. "As chentlemen, we may come to some agreement."
"Or we can barter like merchants," Jonah said, with
malice aforethought. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ingrid flash an "O"
with her fingers. "Is he telling the truth?"
"To within ninety-seven percent of probability," the computer said. "From
pupil, skin-conductivity, encephalographic and other evidence." Markham hid
his start quite well. "I suggest the bargaining commence.
Commandant Reichstein-Markham, you would also be well advised not to . . .
engage in falsehoods."
* * *
"You are not on the datarecord of vessels detached for this duty," the kzin in
the forward screen said.
Buford Early watched carefully as the readouts beside the catlike face formed
themselves into a bar-graph; worry, generalized anxiety, and belief. Not as
good as the readings on humans-ARM computer technology was as good as
telepathy on that, and far more reliable-but enough. Around him the
four-person combat crew tensed at their consoles, although at this range
reaction to any attack would have to be largely cybernetic. The control
chamber was very quiet, and the air had a neutral pine-scented coolness that
leached out the smell of fear-sweat.
They were a long way from home, and going into harm's way.
"Ktrodni-Stkaa has ordered me to observe and report upon the efficiency with
which these operations are carried out," he said; the computer would translate
that into the Hero's Tongue, adding a kzin image and appropriate body
language.
The Inner Circle's stealthing included an ability to broadcast energies which
duplicated the electromagnetic and neutrino signatures of a kzinti corvette.
The kzin officer's muzzle jerked toward the screen
and the round pupils of his eyes flared wide. Hostility. Aggressive intent,
the computer indicated silently.
"This is not Ktrodni-Stkaa's sector!" the kzin snarled. Literally; lines of
saliva trailed from the thin black lips as they peeled back from the inch-long
ivory daggers of the fangs. Early felt tiny hairs crawling along his spine, as
instincts remembered ancestors who had fought lions with spears.
Early shrugged. Formal lines of authority in the kzinti armed forces seemed to
be surprisingly loose; the prestige of individual chieftains mattered a good
deal more, and the networks of patronage and blood kinship. And it was not at
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all uncommon for a high-ranking, full-name kzin to jump the chain of command
and send personal representatives to the site of an important action.
Ktrodni-Stkaa seemed to be about fourth from the top in the kzinti military
hierarchy, to judge from the broadcast monitoring they had been able to do,
and a locally-born opponent of Chuut-Riit.
"Report on your progress," he went on, insultingly refusing to give his own
name or ask the other kzin's.
"You may monitor," the alien replied.
Receiving dataflow, the computer added.
The kzinti ships were floating near an industrial habitat, an elongated
cylinder that had been spun for gravity, with a crazy quilt of life-bubbles
and fabricator frameworks spun out for kilometers on either side. There had [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]