During that period and after, the Hindmost had deployed stepping disks through the ship and the Repair Center and elsewhere, too.
Louis expected to appear in the blocked-off crew quarters. The Hindmost hadn’t needed to suggest, maybe hadn’t dared to be overheard suggesting, that Louis come in fast.
The floating plates come down hard. Louis caught the recoil with bent knees, but he was still knocked off balance. He shouted, “Something’s—”
Something’s following me! Hindmost - But there was plenty going on here.
Thousands of Pierson’s puppeteers shifted and swirled and kicked, stage left. It might have been distracting, but it wasn’t. Louis and Chmeee had learned to ignore that part of the ship. That was the Hindmost’s, and the wall wasn’t glass. It was the invulnerable stuff a General Products hull was made of.
But one two-headed, three-legged alien, his mane curled and bejeweled in formal fashion, was between the kitchen wall and a coffin as big as a transfer booth lying on its side.
A knobby old man in a floppy vest was running at the Hindmost, knees and elbows pumping.
A hidden stepping disk led to the Hindmost’s quarters. The Hindmost must be near or on it, Louis thought. He would be invulnerable there.
Instinct must have been too strong. The Hindmost turned his back instead.
It all happened very fast. Louis was still catching his balance. The Hindmost was spinning around, heads splayed wide apart, looking back, binocular vision with a baseline of three feet. Sighting on his target. His hind leg folded forward and shot straight back as the knobby man attacked.
The Hindmost’s kick was good, square on target. Louis heard a clank: the knobby man must have been wearing a chest plate. Armor or no, that kick would have knocked a normal hominid into a coma. The knobby man turned with the impact, feet off the floor, one hand on the Hindmost’s ankle to borrow its momentum as the Hindmost pulled back for another kick. The knobby man stepped past the hoof and slammed a fist down hard on the puppeteer’s bejeweled mane, where the two necks connected to the torso.
That was the Hindmost’s skull.
And Louis was bringing the flash around. Too slow, too clumsy, the stunned puppeteer was in the way. Something whacked his right wrist and sent the flashlight-laser flying. A metal ball? Another knocked the variable-knife spinning.
Louis flinched violently away from the spinning wire blade.
The Hindmost was down, curled into a ball, heads and long necks tucked between his forelegs. The floor was ankle deep in water. The fallen flash was submerged, but it sent a thread of light through Needle’s transparent hull and into the lava beyond.
The wire blade hadn’t cut Louis in two. Blind luck. But his hands and wrists felt shattered, he was way off balance, and the knobby man was coming at him. Protector!
Louis rolled off the stepping disk and into a corner and started to stand up. His right wrist was a sea of pain. The left was only numb.
In the space where he had been, something huge flicked in on all fours. It stood erect, as big as an orange bear, holding a small cannon in one huge hand.
The knobby man spun and ducked and swept Louis’s variable-knife past the big intruder… the Kzin. The Kzin’s weapon flew away with big clawed fingers still attached. The Kzin froze in a crouch, throttling a howl. The knobby man held the flash, too, in a clear threat.
“You don’t move,” it said. “Web Dweller, you don’t move, either. Louis Wu, you don’t move. Does your contract call for you to die?”
The knobby man’s lips had withdrawn from the gums; the gums had hardened almost to bone, and jawbone had grown through in a jagged pattern. His face was hard, almost a beak. He spoke with a breathy speech impediment, but in Interspeak. How would the knobby man have learned Interspeak? Eavesdropping on the Hindmost?
Contract?
Reality came in waves washing past pain. Eleven years since he’d been in this much trouble. Louis said, stalling, “Yes, under conditions subject to my own sole judgment. Do you accept my contract?”
“Yes,” said the knobby man.
Despite what had gone before, that was astonishing.
The Kzin male was bleeding freely from a hand sliced down to one thumb. He was hugging that arm, trying to squeeze arteries shut. His eyes were on Louis. He said, also in Interspeak, “What shall I do?”
“Raise your arm above your head. Keep squeezing the wrist. Squeeze the blood vessels. Don’t try to fight. That’s a protector. Hindmost, set th-Hindmost! Nap time is over. For all of us.”
The puppeteer uncurled. “Speak, Louis.”
The black coffin—”Your autodoc, you said you could set it to treat a Kzin?”
“Yes?”
“Do that. Then you can tell me what happened. I’m on triple time, by the way, because this has the authentic feel of an emergency.”
The Hindmost wasn’t at his best. He said, “Heal an injured strange Kzin?”
“Do it now.”
“But Louis—”
“I’m under contract! This is for our benefit. Can’t you see who this must be?”
The puppeteer knelt before the ‘doc and began mouthing the controls.
The protector still had the flash and variable-knife. Louis couldn’t think of anything to do about that, or the sudden strange Kzin, or the constant flicker of dancing puppeteers in his peripheral vision.
One tanj thing at a time!
The Kzin. “Who are you?”
“Acolyte.”
“Son of Chmeee,” Louis guessed. He’d forgotten how huge a Kzin male became when you stood next to him. This one couldn’t be more than eleven years old, not quite full-grown. “No true name?”
“Not yet. Eldest son of Chmeee. I challenged. We fought. Father won. He told me, learn wisdom. Stalk Louis Wu. Acolyte.”
“Aww… Hindmost, how long to set the ‘doc for Kzin metabolism?”
“Minutes. Give the Kzin a tourniquet.”
Louis moved to the wardrobe dispenser, slowly, hands visible to the protector. His right hand and wrist were hugely swollen. He held that arm raised above his head. His left hand felt numb, but it would work, he thought.
The kitchen wall had menus for kzinti and human cuisine, diet supplements, allergy suppressants, clothing, and more. Louis hadn’t seen pharmacy menus, but he didn’t doubt they were there. The Hindmost had found him as a wirehead. He would not have shown him how to access recreational chemicals.
Louis dialed {Sol / Nordik / formal} and a selection of cravats. Resisting temptation, he chose an orange and yellow pattern that would look good on a Kzin. Not even his eyes moved toward the Slaver digging tool he’d taped under the dispenser port a lifetime ago.
The smell of the Kzin was faint. Acolyte must have washed himself scentless, to stalk him, Louis Wu thought. His orange fur bore three parallel ridges across the belly. Otherwise he wore Halloween markings: both ears tipped with bitter chocolate, nearly black; a broad chocolate stripe down the back, a smaller chocolate comma down his tail and leg. He was shorter than Chmeee, seven feet even, but just as wide: a hybrid. His mother would be of the archaic kzinti from the Map of Kzin.
Acolyte sat down, bringing his arm in reach. Louis bound the thick wrist with his tie, using his left hand and his teeth. The blood slowed to a dribble.
The Kzin rumbled, “Who is my attacker?”
“Tanj if I know, but if I had to guess… Hello, knobby man?”
“Speak.”
“The Hindmost and I, we both guessed that a protector must be in the Repair Center. You’ve been shooting down invading ships. The timing made it obvious you were working from here. The Hindmost left stepping disks all over the place. A protector might reprogram a disk to link with this one as soon as it was turned on…”