Outrage glinted in his eyes. “And what are you? A saint?”
“I am nothing like you, Jacobi. Nothing. Now seal it and lock it down, before I see how long it would take Kraach-Captain to get back here and pull my hands from around your miserable throat.”
He fell silent.
The rest of the trip was quiet, except for more unintelligible snarling arguments in the Hero’s Tongue from the command cockpit. From Jacobi I could have found out what Kraach-Captain and Alien-Technologist were saying, but I think that I understood the gist. Irritation seems quite universal among sentient beings.
I had left the outer airlock open when I had departed Feynman in Victrix. That way the kzin crew tunnel mechanism could adapt and seal the two vessels together. We were instructed to leave our helmets open and to come along. The old kzin was clearly impatient, ready to get started on the real job.
Kraach-Captain paused for a moment before we left the kzin airlock. He bent nearly double and put his face near mine, rasped, “Think of your cubs and your mate. Their fate is in your hands.”
“I know that, Kraach-Captain.” I studiously looked to one side of his huge eyes.
He coughed and spat in reply, then he and Alien-Technologist herded us into Feynman. Alien-Technologist had a complicated device clipped to his forearm. It beeped at intervals.
I felt a heavy weight on my shoulder. A four-fingered black hand squeezed like a vise. “Lead us to the control lair,” Kraach-Captain rumbled. I walked them along the main ring corridor. The kzinti had to stoop. I thought that I heard Alien-Technologist hiss-spit something at Kraach-Captain, who coughed kzin laughter in reply. Perhaps a joke about the edibility of the passengers in cryosuspension.
I lead them into the cramped control room, feeling the tension build. I pointed to the sleeping bodies on the floor. Careful, careful…
“Your sources of information, Kraach-Captain,” I said. “They altered the ship systems such that I cannot turn off the ramscoop.”
Kraach-Captain sniffed through his open faceplate, looking around the control room. “We will deal with them in a moment,” he rasped. “Show us these ship systems.”
I smoothly called up the various subroutines on the main viewscreen. Jacobi was leaning over my shoulder to see better. First, the safety interlocks. Since the fusion drive used interstellar matter swept up by ramscoop fields, shutting the fields down was a delicate matter. I showed them encrypted block after encrypted block at every step of the shutdown commands. The kzinti rumbled and hissed their impatience. Claws tapped at keypads as they called up diagnostic subroutines far more quickly than I had expected.
I snuck a glance at the chronometer above the central console. It was almost time.
Kraach-Captain turned to me. “Prepare one of these for interrogation.” A claw flicked at the three sleeping bodies.
I carefully lifted the body of my mother, and moved to put her in a chair.
“No,” thundered Kraach-Captain. “That one would be too fragile.” He hissed and spat at Alien-Technologist, who yowled in reply.
Jacobi looked thoughtful. “Dominant One, may I speak?”
A careless wave of unsheathed claws.
“It could be,” Jacobi continued, “that an older human would be a better choice. Heroes have… ah, a tendency to overestimate human tolerances. The writhings of a young male might be misinterpreted as defiance.” He carefully looked away.
“Hrrrr,” mused Kraach-Captain. “You could well be right, cull. Prepare her.”
I moved to tie my mother down in the chair.
There was a sudden broad-band squeal across all commlink frequencies. The two aliens shrieked in pain and surprise at the sound. It was loudest from the huge wristband on Alien-Technologist. Kraach-Captain looked at the main viewscreen in time to see a multicolored bloom of ionized gas fluorescing where his vessel waited.
The kzin stared at the screen, not breathing. The cloud of gas glowed, changing from blue to yellow to reddish as it cooled and expanded. Behind their backs, quick as an eyeblink, my mother shot from the chair into the corridor, bounding in the low gravity.
Kraach-Captain’s impressive ears drooped suddenly, then folded tightly into knots. The orange ruff visible around his helmet seal puffed out in rage. “Death Cry,” he growled past thin black lips.
The old kzin turned and looked at me, smiling like a… like a kzin. “What have you done?”
I looked him back in the eye, carefully moving to one side. “The fusion-point generator I brought back in Victrix was sabotaged. It just fried the inside of your troopship, Kraach-Captain.”
Alien-Technologist started to snarl something, but Kraach-Captain slashed a gesture for quiet. His claws unsheathed, he gathered himself to leap. Nervously I prepared myself as best I could to dodge the elderly kzin’s attack.
From behind the huge alien, Klaus Bergen suddenly leaped up like a child’s toy from his false sleep in the microgravity. He thrust a sharpened power conduit into Kraach-Captain’s massive back. The kzin spread his huge arms in an enormous embrace, his scream going up and up in frequency—
— into silence. He hung limply in midair as his pelt began to smoke.
Madchen Franke shoved an electrode into Alien Technologist. She was quick, but the kzin caught her with one spasming swipe, tearing her arm off. As she slammed into a bulkhead, blood spurting from a fleshy gaping socket, Alien-Technologist roared and collapsed in convulsions.
Bergen’s face was a mask of grief, but he never eased his grip on the electrode lodged in Kraach-Captain’s back.
My mother peered into the control room, a laser aimed and ready. She looked around quickly, tossed me the laser.
Quickly, she grabbed the electrode piercing Alien-Technologist, standing above the concussed woman lying on the deck.
Jacobi looked wildly from side to side at the twitching kzinti. At two crew carefully holding the electrodes steady. His eyes jerked toward me.
“You,” he exclaimed.
“Me,” I replied, puffing down the laser.
Then I broke his neck with my own hands. I felt nothing.
We had Trojan Horsed the Trojan Cat. Or perhaps Trojan Monkeyed the Trojan Cat.
My mother stood over us with the welding laser while Bergen and I quickly but very carefully bound the two unconscious kzin. Franke had lost consciousness immediately. We could leave her for a few minutes without risking significant further damage. If there was one thing the crew of Feynman knew, it was cryosuspension.
I entered the kzin fighter ship in search of medical supplies. I was careful not to touch anything. This fighter was a very important prize now. There could be booby traps anywhere. Strange devices, complicated controls. I couldn’t make sense of it. Perhaps wiser heads than mine could.
“Well done, my son,” I heard my mother say to me as I sealed the kzin ship behind me. “I am proud.”
I smiled tightly, but shook my head a little. I did what I had to do. Still, I would never know the price I paid, nor what I had bought.
But at least it felt right.
Later, I stood in the tiny control room of the Feynman. Stars filled the screen, a riot of gaudy pinpoints against velvet blackness. With some thought and careful orientation, I was able to pick out Sol. The sight still didn’t warm me, nor make me feel victorious.
I heard a voice behind me. “Son?”
“Yes, mother?” I replied, not needing to turn around.
“It’s time.” Her voice was old, yes, but it still crackled and burned with a trace of Herrenmann command.
I felt the familiar argument rise in my throat. “I don’t see why we can’t at least try to understand the ratcat drive. If we succeed, we would…”
“If, if, if,” she interrupted softly. “You know perfectly well that the kzin booby trap their devices to keep them out of slave-race hands. And we dare not risk either of our captives to explain the failsafes here and now.”