Pyragy nodded. “Reasonable. Do you foresee special challenges at any particular stage?”
Selena smiled, but not too widely: just enough to look modestly charming. “I foresee special challenges at almost every stage, Director. However, the stage we’ve labeled ‘infancy’-birth to one year of age-will probably be the simplest, since few complex cultural variables will be in play yet. On the other hand, the next stage-two to three years, or what we’ve crudely labeled as ‘childhood’-may present us with some of the greatest challenges.”
“Why?”
“Because we may not yet have the relevant information from Proxima Centauri by that time. Dr. Yang would certainly have received our wake-up call and request for information by now: we sent it almost six years ago. However, depending on how long it takes for her to gather and then send the data that was compiled in Centauri, we might not have received it when the kit enters that developmental stage.”
Pyragy shrugged. “Perhaps, but we should have all her data at the end of that stage, and so, be well-prepared for the next one. Which the Biological Research group has labeled the ‘training stage.’ What I don’t understand is, why ‘training’ instead of simply ‘puberty’?”
“Director, the kzinti don’t really have a word for puberty: their closest term is ‘trainable age.’ And it should be understood that, from what we can determine, the training received by these four-to-six year-olds is more like junior boot camp. Other than basic math and language skills, the focus is on physical readiness and combat.”
Pyragy stared at her for some time. “There is some merit to your label, then; we shall take it under advisement.”
“Thank you, Director. The ‘maturity’ stage-seven to eight years-will bring with it clear, sharpened interest in females and mating, even though natural kzinti have no access to either at this age. However, because whatever socialization we provide will lack the nuances, compensations, or distractions that make male kzinti manageable during these years, I am afraid that this is where we must expect to lose a great deal of control over our research subject. We can only hope that Dr. Yang’s data will include some useful insights on how kzin culture handles the onset of full sexual awareness and maturity.
“Through some lucky finds, we know that the kzinti themselves call the age of nine to twelve the ‘trekking years.’ It seems to be a period of wanderlust and itinerancies: they try their hand at many trades. It is unclear whether this is to give them a broad base of competencies, or an attempt to affix them as journeymen to a particular field of endeavor. Finally, they call the age of thirteen, of full maturity, the Name Year-not because any kzin will get a Name that year, but because this is the first point at which they may earn a Name. Although usually, it takes place much, much later. If at all.”
“And do you think we should be trying to make our test subjects liaisons to the natural kzinti, or exemplars of what the whole species might become if they were freed from the yoke of genetic and behavioral conditioning?”
Selena kept herself from swallowing nervously; this would have to be the most politic response of her career. “I think that it is too early to set our final objectives in stone. But I will hasten to add this proviso: whatever we plan upon, our objectives should remain conservative and maximally attainable ones.”
Pyragy smiled benignly. Because you interpret “conservative and maximally attainable” as synonymous with “what we humans can understand, control, and inculcate in a kzin.” Selena returned his smile and tried not to feel sick at having to curry favor with him. But in actuality, the most conservative and attainable of all objectives will be to let a kzin be a kzin-and to see what that means and watch how it happens. And if we’re lucky, to inherit at least half of his loyalties.
Pyragy strolled down to the lectern, set his presentation materials before him, and began: “The kits will be remitted to the care of Dr. Boroshinsky’s secure preserve in ten days…”
2397 BCE: Subject age-one year
When Selena came back down the inter-biome walkway, she was surprised to see Captain Armbrust in the observation hub. She was more surprised still to see the youngest of the kits, the one he had rescued, with its nose hard against the glass, a small halo of mist coming and going with its breath. The little male was displaying all the now-well-known kzin behaviors of affinity: his ribbed ears were fully deployed, each like one-half of a toy pink teacup. His eyes were wide open and the pupils very large. His fur displayed a slow, rhythmic rippling that ran from the base of his skull down to the end of his spine. While Selena watched, a tentative paw came up to rest on the part of the glass near the captain’s face.
She was tempted to just stand and watch, but protocols-and manners-demanded otherwise. “I’m sorry, Captain. I didn’t know you were coming. Of course, I didn’t know you were allowed to come in here at all. And next time, I’ll thank you to check with me before allowing any of the subjects to see you. Particularly that one.”
Armbrust stood straight; the kit propped himself up, blinked, sought the human face that had been pressed close to his own through the plexiglass. “I’m sorry.” Armbrust waved a hand at the doorway into the habitat dome. “Once I got through security, I tried to find someone to report to.” He shrugged. “There was no one around. No way to contact anyone, either.”
Selena sighed. “Yes, we’re pretty spartan, back here. Up until now, all our emphasis has been on getting these habitats set up as quickly as possible. Our little kits were getting a bad case of laboratory cabin fever. Particularly the oldest one.”
“How are they doing, if I might ask?”
“You might, if I can find out how you got in here at all. As far as I could tell, Director Pyragy would have been happy to banish you from the planet, let alone our primary live research facility.”
“You’re probably right about that. But the director doesn’t have more authority than the admiral I report to, and the military wants to keep a pair of eyes on this project. Much to Pyragy’s chagrin, I’m sure.”
“Yes, be sure of that. Pyragy is old-schooclass="underline" ‘pills not pistols; conditioning not cannons.’ You represent more than just a diametrically opposed set of opinions; you embody the destruction of his world.”
“Huh. Thought I was protecting it.”
“No, you are protecting the planet. But on that planet, there are many worlds, and Pyragy’s world was predicated upon the notion that we as a species had finally done away with violence.” She shrugged. “It was all swap-water, of course. But his generation of ARM administrators grew up thinking it was gospel.” The captain was smiling broadly. “What?” she asked.
“You said ‘swap-water.’ That’s a Belter expression: potable water recaptured from urine. Not always one-hundred percent clean when the systems get old, I’m told.”
“Yeah? So I’m a Belter. So what?”
The captain’s smile got wider still. “I find Belters…well, refreshing. Here on Earth everything is a little too tidy for me. Out where I grew up, on Wunderland, things are messier.” He frowned. “These days, a lot messier.”
Selena barely restrained the urge to reach out and touch his arm. She had heard rumors that he was the only one of his family who had managed to escape the system on a slowship. They weren’t of herrenman stock, and so remained on Wunderland, under the watchful eyes and ready claws of the kzin. It was surprising that he had any room left in his heart for anything, let alone a tiny kzin kit.
Instead of touching his arm, she stepped a little closer. “I think we’re pretty lucky to have you here, making your own messes, Captain.”
Armbrust looked up with a sudden smile. “My name is Dieter.”