Hal Colebatch - Man-Kzin Wars – XIII

“I’m not sure how soon. The man I work for said that maybe, if you like the new food we have for you, you can stay here right away. Would you like that?”

Hap didn’t even nod. “Where is new food?” His eyes roved purposefully.

Selena schooled her face to impassivity as she motioned one of her staff to bring in the sealed plate. Hap’s nose was immediately hyperactive. “Meat?” he purred eagerly.

“Yes.” Selena kept her voice calm. “Try some.”

The plate was placed before Hap; the lid was removed. He started at the sudden puff of steam, the pungent smell of seared beef. “Meat,” he agreed. “But burned.”

“No: cooked. It brings out the smells, the tastes,” explained Selena, wishing she had authority in this matter. “Try it.”

Hap’s nose wrinkled dubiously, but he gamely seized and devoured a small chunk of the sirloin. He chewed for a moment-then his eyes went wide and the meat came out in a rush, propelled from behind by a veritable torrent of vomit.

Pyragy looked cross. It could have been for any one of several reasons. Rumor had it that his ongoing hormone therapy was interfering with his cardio meds. If so, his choice was between tiring easily (perhaps fatally) or verging into a cascade of implant and transplant rejections that would likely render his body alarming to all but the most open-minded of partners.

Perhaps no less distressing to him was the presence of Admiral Coelho-Chase and the ARM’s Associate Chief Executive, Maurizio Dennehy. Their presence was a clear indictment of his handling of the Kzin Research Project. And probably the recent episode involving the cooked meat had caused the long-standing official uneasiness to reify into a full-blown investigation.

But perhaps most frustrating of all to Pyragy was that his two most senior researchers-Boroshinsky and Selena herself-had been summoned by those same powers to explore a possible redirection of the program’s research goals. For a man who hungered after preeminence and prestige more than anything else, this was indeed a most annoying turn of events.

The admiral looked up from the reports and toward Boroshinsky. “So you confirm that you made these multiple recommendations against attempting to feed cooked meat to the kzin cub named Hap?”

“ Da , Admiral. Some of our studies suggested that it might be mildly toxic to him. For kzinti, eating cooked meat would be analogous to us eating a mix of carbonized and denatured meat. Either upsets our stomach. Cooked meat has the equivalent effect upon the kzinti, causing the cub’s projectile vomiting: his system was purging itself of toxins.”

The admiral and the associate chief executive stared at Pyragy, who shrugged: “This was not known before we tried.”

“According to the collected reports and testimony, this outcome was suspected.”

“Suspected, but not known,” Pyragy persisted.

“Even if we were to concede that possibly specious point, why did you feel that it was important to attempt to get the kzin to eat cooked meat?”

Pyragy spread his hands wide. “Is it not obvious? To see if he could be weaned away from the taste of the fresh kill.”

“To what end?”

“Why, to put distance between himself and his more primal instincts. Admiral, Executive, if we are to successfully pursue our most basic mandate-to raise a kzin with whom we might have meaningful communication-we must ensure that he views us as fellow discussants, not possible entrées. If he retains a taste for raw meat, he will probably retain a taste for our own uncooked flesh, too. An independent board of animal behaviorists validated my concern that our relationship with him will remain forever compromised until and unless that association is broken. He will not see potential food creatures as fully sentient and equal to himself.”

“And do you agree with this independent review of kzin behavior, Dr. Navarre?”

“I do not know, Admiral, since I have not seen it.”

“Why?”

“Because the existence of the external review was not revealed to us until this week.”

“Very well, so you are not in possession of the particulars of the report. Given that proviso, and speaking off-the-record, Dr. Navarre, do you feel that the ability of the kzinti to conceive of creatures either as persons or as prey is as polarized as Director Pyragy is claiming?”

Selena shifted awkwardly. “It seems unlikely, Admiral.”

“Why?”

“Because there is plentiful evidence that, after defeating a fellow kzin in an honor duel, the victor will consume a least some parts of the loser. Perhaps much more. But honor duels can only be fought between Heroes, between kzin persons . So it seems that the kzinti can operate socially without such an absolute distinction between prey and persons.”

“I concur, and consider this further evidence that the research project must be careful not to overanthropomorphize the kzinti,” added the associate chief executive with a stern look in Pyragy’s direction.

Boroshinsky cleared his throat. “In one way, however, we have determined that the kzinti are, unfortunately, similar to us. The biology group can conclusively report that kzin biochemistry is too similar to humans’ for the safe military use of toxins or biological agents. Although some are more injurious to kzin systems than homo sapiens, the margin of difference is completely insufficient for the creation of a tailor-made toxin lethal to kzinti but harmless to humans. Insofar as bacteriological and viral agents are concerned, preliminary tests suggest that our biochemistries are close enough that some pathogens could ‘hop’ species. On the other extreme, if the organisms are dependent upon specific genetic interfaces, then of course the kzinti are immune to all of ours, just as we are immune to theirs. But so far as we can determine, the kzinti have acquired absolute immunity to all the strains we find latent in their system.”

“Even their own digestive flora?”

Boroshinsky nodded at the admiral, a faint smile suggesting he appreciated the intelligence of the question. “Even that. The kzin digestive process is far more robust than ours. The first part is almost sharklike in its capacity; the lower portion simply retrieves moisture and desiccates the wastes. Also, their digestive process is more reliant upon glandular secretions than resident bacteria.” He sat back. “I am afraid my group has failed in its primary task.”

Associate Chief Executive Dennehy shook his head emphatically. “You have not failed, and your labors are not over, Dr. Boroshinsky. In fact, we are glad to learn this so early in the research process. By removing one alternative from our suite of strategic responses, we can focus on the remaining options. And quite frankly, we considered the possibility of finding a kzin-specific bioagent a longshot.”

“You did?” Boroshinsky and Pyragy were an unintentional chorus in expressing their surprise.

Dennehy nodded. “Once we learned that the kzinti had already enslaved races possessing advanced technology, it seemed likely that they would have either genetically amplified their resistance to biological weapons, or that, during an earlier conquest, another race taught them this lesson. The hard way. As far as simple toxins are concerned, we presumed that since they can metabolize our flesh, that our biochemistries would prove too close for either of us to remain wholly immune to what was toxic to the other. But there was no way of being sure without your research.”

Boroshinsky rubbed his pointy jaw. “Then, sirs, I am afraid I do not see what you hope we might yet discover as a weapon against the kzinti.”

Dennehy smiled. “I wish we could take the credit for the answer to that, but it comes from Dr. Yang. She anticipated all these dead-ends, observing that if there was any weapon to be found in the kzin biochemistry, it would not be something as inelegant as a simple poison or disease. Rather, the key was to find some way we might be able to turn their own natural secretions against them. And since the kzinti have so many more glands than humans, she thought it possible that there might be something resident in the endocrine system that we could exploit. Do you agree, Doctor?”