Hal Colebatch - Man-Kzin Wars – XIII

Eager to stay in this place, the kzin did his best. He demonstrated how various hooks and levers operated-using this as an opportunity to check that they still functioned. The humans had disabled power to the systems, so nothing actually did anything, but as far as he could judge, if power was restored, they would work.

The first day, they concentrated mostly on the bridge. The second day, they moved to engineering. This was not a separate deck as it would be in a larger vessel, but a compartment. Here the kzin was forced to disappoint his captors. Although he could show them which telltales indicated what readout, even translating the comma and dots of kzinti script that labeled various devices, he could not tell them anything about how the engine itself functioned.

Miffy pressed, asking the same question in several different ways, almost certainly hoping to catch the kzin in a lie. The result was the same. He couldn’t tell them, because he really didn’t know.

Roscoe finished making a note, then shrugged. “Really, boss, the ratcat’s done better than we expected. I mean, except for Belt miners, who knows how every part of a ship works? We already know that the kzinti go more for specialization than we do.”

Miffy reluctantly agreed and they moved on to the next section-the badly damaged computer system. Here the kzin felt glad that they’d looked at the engines first and the humans had grown to believe he knew little or nothing about complex technical matters.

The computer was indeed damaged, the main system completely ruined. However, he was able to ascertain that some of the back-up systems connected with engineering and navigation were untouched. They would need to be manually activated, but if he did somehow manage to steal this ship, he wouldn’t need to fly blind.

For the first time, the kzin allowed himself to entertain the idea that not only might he steal the ship, he might manage an escape. Up to this point, the best he had dared realistically hope for was destroying the scout ship, himself, and hopefully a section of this base. Now…

Surely his first duty was to get back to areas held by the Patriarchy. He had learned a great deal about humans. Moreover, he had a good idea how much humans had learned about kzinti. All of this would be useful.

Yet the desire for revenge was strong in him. He imagined the hot battle lust that would flood his veins as he aimed the nose of the scout ship directly at the asteroid. Although the base was neatly contained, still there would be equipment on the exterior. He knew the humans augmented their power with solar energy gathered from whichever star this asteroid orbited. They captured and processed comets as well. All that equipment would be on the surface, concealed, yes, but vulnerable.

Or he might hit a thin place, near the hanger doors, perhaps, and shatter the asteroid’s integrity. He imagined atmosphere rushing out, life-support desperately struggling to replace voided air and water, spilling more of this vital material into barren space. If his crash created a large enough hole, many humans would be killed. Within the base, only the guards routinely wore pressure suits and these were not worn closed and sealed.

Overcome by panic-for the kzin had seen that humans panicked easily-many would forget the drill. Humans were not kzinti. They were new to war. Most of the staff on this base were from Earth herself, not from the colony worlds, the Moon, or the Belt. Flatlanders were remarkably complacent, often ignoring the dangers involved in living in an artificial environment.

He remembered hearing a story about a human woman on a tour ship who had complained to the ship’s captain because the windows in her cabin didn’t open…

The kzin was jerked from these lovely reveries by Miffy asking more questions. Obediently, he answered. Carefully, because now there was so much to lose, he played the part of a slave, but he was a slave who scented freedom.

Over the days that followed, the kzin regularly was taken to the scout ship. He participated in various drills meant to check to what degree the scout ship was functional.

Miffy had what he believed was a fool-proof way of assuring the kzin’s cooperation. While he and his staff members wore pressure suits, the kzin was left naked to vacuum. This was supposed to assure that he did not do anything foolish, for if he did, he would be among the first to die.

As if a kzin would fear death if duty or revenge called, the kzin thought.

But he wondered if he had caught some infection of human caution. There were several times when he might have damaged the scout ship or some of its key components, but each time he held back. He told himself that this was because he did not wish to settle for half-measures. The humans had shown themselves quite good at repairing both damaged machines and damaged kzinti. If he were to act, the act must be final.

Self-doubt crept into his dreams. Was he really trying for the final measure or was there something else? He did not believe he feared to die, but was there something he feared more?

Did he fear going home?

Jenni watched as the kzin grew first stronger, then, with a sudden change of mood and health, ragged and weak. His appetite was reduced so that even his favorite steak hardly seemed to tempt him.

“You’ve been overworking him,” she said to Miffy. “I demand complete rest or I will not answer for the consequences.”

Miffy glowered at her, but he could not disagree.

“We have enough information that it will take us weeks to process. I wish he’d been able to explain the gravity polarizer to us! Still, the documents he translated, especially the print manual we found, give us some idea.”

“But not enough to figure out how to make one?” Jenni asked sympathetically.

Miffy shook his head. “No. Too much information is assumed. What we found was more like an operator’s manual. It tells you how to use the machine and even how to do basic repairs to various systems, but it doesn’t go into the theory of construction.”

“Stick your arm in the autodoc,” Jenni agreed, “and send me the readout. Simple to use, but providing no idea how the device itself works-much less how the human body the ’doc is diagnosing works.”

“Right.”

“So you can do without my patient for a few days?”

“I suppose.”

This last was said grudgingly, even distractedly. Jenni decided to take a risk.

“I’d like to go over the ship myself.”

“Why?”

“Did it occur to you that the kzin might have caught something? You had the environmental systems up and running, but if there was an infection in the scrubbers…As I recall, the original crew did not survive.”

“No. They were pretty much squished.”

“And that could have released something nasty. I want to take a bioscanner and see what I can gather, compare it to my patient’s bloodwork, do some other tests.”

“Wouldn’t it take a hardy bug to survive vacuum?”

“Microscopic life has survived in worse environments than within a ship, even a ship open to vacuum,” Jenni reminded him. “And it’s likely that some areas remained sealed.”

For a long moment, she thought Miffy was going to refuse her, then his expression grew thoughtful.

“That would be a hardy bug,” he said. Then his tone became casual. “Oh, why not take a look? Let me know the results?”

“Of course,” Jenni replied, thinking why doesn’t he just write “Let me know if you find something I can use as a bioweapon” on his forehead for me to read?

She went down to the scout ship with Roscoe. They spent enough time there that the guards got distinctly bored. However, by the time they left, she felt fairly certain the ship could function with a single pilot.