Hal Colebatch - Man-Kzin Wars – XIV

“But they would have seen what happened to the Jotok-a once proud and civilized species, reduced to the kzins’ slaves and food animals,” Stan objected.

“I did not say that I agreed with such an attitude, or that it was plausible, only that it may have existed. We are reconciled with our quondam conquerors, as you have shown by interviewing a kzin tonight. We have forgiven them. We are striving to extend the hand of friendship even to these ferocious aliens. And we should extend it also to those lost souls who strayed under the occupation and gave aid to the enemy.”

“It’s not the hand of friendship I’ll be extending if I find a human traitor who shot down a human ship to cozy up to the kzin rulers,” Stan told him. “It would be a quite different hand, believe me. That wasn’t just shameful or disgraceful, though it was that too. Not exactly on the order of some wretch in the Ordungspolitzei issuing a traffic violation notice on behalf of the collabo Government! Treason to humanity is a bit closer, don’t you think?”

Without waiting for an answer, Stan turned to the camera and started his closing spiel. “This is Stan the Man, Stan Adler here, on the topic of who shot down the Valiant . Was it a legitimate kzin strike, a part of the war, or something much worse? Was it an act of treachery by human collaborators trying to ingratiate themselves with their overlords? Tonight you’ve seen one of the kzin, a student, not an overlord, and only born towards the end of the war, who has shown himself friendly to man. We of Wunderland also know that, however cruel and merciless they may be, the kzin despise liars and seldom if ever lie themselves. And you’ve seen Senator von Höhenheim, who doesn’t want us to find the truth any time soon. You make up your own minds as to which of them you’d rather have on your side in a fight, which one you’d trust. Good night.”

“That bastard knows something. He’d not have dared speak to me that way if he didn’t.” The senator was white with rage. Alois Grün sat down without permission. They were alone in the senator’s office, a suitably large room with a rich carpet and wood panelling enriched by gold and crimson swirls, in a suite of rooms high above the streets of Munchen, spread out like a plan below. Low gravity encouraged high building, but the war had flattened much. Lights moved at the park near the spaceport, where acres of hulked kzin warships were gradually being demolished. It was night, but the sky was lit by the vast jewel of Alpha Centauri B, and the sliding points of light that were natural and artificial satellites.

“He can hardly know anything,” Grün said carefully. “I agree he seems to have some definite suspicions. His closing remarks were tantamount to an accusation, but he was not as explicit as he would surely have been did he have any hard evidence. Oh, I don’t blame you,” said Grün. “I remember what we were promised: estates and slaves of our own on Earth or Wunderland if we cooperated, dinner in the officers’ mess if we didn’t. It wasn’t a difficult choice. Oh yes, we should have been good scouts and defied Ktrodni-Stkaa! Ktrodni-Stkaa, whom even other kzin were terrified of!”

Von Höhenheim glared. His mind was working hard.

Abbot Boniface walked in the abbey grounds with Vaemar. It was night, and the stars glittered above them in eternal silence. The orange exhaust flame of a chemical rocket vanished skyward. Somewhere, far beyond the range of visual sight, human and kzin fleets might be locked in battle. Splashes from the fenced-off Jotok ponds suggested the young amphibians were busy.

“Yes, I did tell that nice couple that you should go into politics. I don’t for a moment suppose you want to. Anybody who does want to go into politics shouldn’t be allowed to. But you are needed. It’s your duty, in my view.”

Vaemar made a noise in the back of his throat that could almost have been a growl. Kzin have a clear grasp of the concept of duty; in Vaemar’s view, this was a dirty card to play.

“You will have to convince me of that. I have a duty to put my mind to use in mathematics also. That is ultimately much more important than politics.”

“More important, yes, I grant you that. Mathematics is one of the bases for our civilization and has been since Euclid, and making a contribution to it is certainly important. But not as urgent as making a contribution to good government. Ignore the political environment and you will find that your mathematical work is unfinished because of the meddling of the ignorant. Things like that have happened in the history of both our species, as you know. Didn’t the kzin equivalent of universities start because kzin with a bent for mathematical thought were forced to flee into the wilderness to escape the incessant challenges to death-duels? As our Archimedes was killed by a conquering soldier at the fall of his city. Wernher von Braun nearly died at the bombing of Peenemunde. If that had happened, we would hardly be talking together today.”

“No. My Sire would have had vast estates on Earth.”

“And you would have had eights of ambitious elder brothers between you and the throne, as you yourself have observed. You are an eccentric, Vaemar, a misfit like your friend Dimity. Like Karan, for that matter. And you know what happens to misfits in the Patriarchy.”

Vaemar knew very well. He would have had difficulty surviving, even with his illustrious family to protect him.

The abbot pressed his point. “Your work might even be destroyed, labelled as kzin mathematics and consequently not real, proper human mathematics at all, since your arithmetic is on base eight or for some other rationalization.” The abbot put his hand up. “No, you don’t have to tell me that the idea is insane, I know that, but there are some insane people about. And there have been such arguments before. Einstein’s theories were banned in Nazi Germany as Jewish physics. In fact, you could say that the whole idea of government is to keep fools, knaves and lunatics from disturbing their neighbors. And if no intelligent being will contribute to government because other things are more fun, and, in the long run we may never have, more important, then those who do take power will be all fools, knaves or lunatics. It has happened in the past.”

“But I shouldn’t be any good at it,” Vaemar protested. “I know what is required, I have seen enough human politicians to know. Compromise and lies. Those are the foundations of politics. And I cannot lie. My honor does not permit me.” Vaemar made that noise in his throat that the abbot correctly translated as intense distaste. “I speak not only of human politics. I was too young to be aware of the intrigues that filled my Sire’s palace, but I have learned much since-our Heroes sent out on wars of conquest for glory, yes, and for land and slaves, and to expand our Empire up the spiral arm, but also simply to keep them out of the way. A warrior doctrine whose purpose was to have rival claimants to the throne kill each other off! The mass-production of dead Heroes who are so much less inconvenient than live ones. And even that was more honorable than what a politician has to do in a democracy.”

Abbot Boniface smiled to himself. A human who spoke of his honor would have rung alarm bells, but for a kzin it was perfectly natural. “But you can compromise. You can accept the good without rejecting it in favor of unattainable perfection. You, perhaps you alone, have enough insight into both kzin and man to see another point of view. And the fact that you cannot lie is a great strength. Oh yes,” Boniface said wryly, “I know that the main method of politicians has usually been to let everyone think that you are on their side. Shading the truth at best, downright misleading lies at worst. Trying vainly to be all things to all men. But both man and kzin have a respect for those who tell the truth as they believe it to be. Our best statesmen in the past have usually been like that. They have told the truth and argued honestly for what they believed to be right, and the power of honest belief can accomplish much. I know. In my own small way I am a politician, you see.