Hal Colebatch - Man-Kzin Wars – XIII

The benefit of autopilot is that the organic pilot is free from complicated tasks to focus on tasks more reliant on a natural intelligence. Yet the human mind has its own autopilot, wherein autonomic bodily functions or rote activities continue without conscious management. In Flex’s case, his autopilot was shock-induced, his full consciousness deferred. His legs moved him through the kzinti recreational area, his throbbing head unaware of his surroundings. When he came upon a running stream, a decision was forced upon him, and that kicked him back into manual.

Flex remembered where he was. Slowly, his vision widened, and with a lone breeze that meandered through the trees, he heard the multitude sounds of the jungle. Insects circled him, distant unknown animals barked and cried, and overhead, the whir of a motor grew faint and was gone. A bird began a sweet chirping that invariably ended in a mock-death scream. Its warble-warble-tweet-tweet-YAAAGH neatly encapsulated the beauty and horror of any number of jungles in known space. The sun slanted through the steamy air, slicing the contours of gray-green foliage into confusion.

Born and raised in the nearly doubled gravity of Jinx, Flex Bothme was short and stocky, a knotted muscle of a man. Such a knot might slip at any moment, and he often had. He was wearing cammo flight togs, and his wristcomp still worked. Apparently, he had been walking for only a few minutes. He thought to backtrack to his tumbler, but suddenly he remembered Annie Venzi. If she was still alive, she was in mortal danger, so he had to find her immediately. Had he, in his traumatized subconscious, calculated which way she must be? He’d been walking northeast before encountering the stream. That would be about right, so he decided to continue.

A large winged insect dared a pass at his neck, but before he could swat it, it changed his mind. “Guess I don’t smell right,” he muttered. On Gummidgy, Annie and Flex chased pests through the air with a sizzler, and then swung lazily in a hammock. They watched the wan light of the little moon bobbling on Circle Sea, and then made love. That was number nine on their “worlds to make love on” list. Flex swore to himself that if he found her alive on Meerowsk, he’d make love to her there and then, even if it meant mission interruptus .

In the sandy loam at his feet, fresh footprints from a small clawed animal with at least four legs ran along the stream. Flex was not a tracker, but he was not the stereotypical dull-witted Jinxian either. It was obvious that the thing had lingered for a drink and then bounded downstream, to his left. This might be important if the animal was being tracked by kzinti hunters. After all, this was a recreational park designed for their amusement. Flex might suddenly find himself the prey of known space’s finest hunters.

He scanned the shallow stream up and down. He had a sidearm, but would be no match for a kzin in this situation. Even if he survived, there would be no way to rescue Annie. Come to think of it, his best chance to find her was if the kzinti found her for him. And there was one way he could help them do that.

Flex used his wristcomp to estimate the direction of Jarko-S’larbo’s lodge. His comp calibrated to the planet’s magnetic field, and he bounded off in that direction. If he could surrender to the kzinti, he might be able to bargain for her life, mission be damned. Annie had always said it was a bad idea to serve together. Despite all the fun and profits they’d had, she was right. What good was it earning money to buy expensive treatments to try to extend their short Jinxian lives if you got killed in the process?

Only bruised here and there, Flex made good time through the forest, but he was far from stealthy. He heard the crashing of limbs behind and above him-something large but elusive was leaping from tree to tree, chasing him. He darted behind a thick mossy trunk, drew his flashlight laser, and chanced a look back.

Nothing. Whatever it was, it was clever. His eyes darted around, but could not detect a trace of the arboreal predator. He hadn’t studied the native fauna, because they were supposed to have landed nearer to the kzin compound, and there was no time to look them up now.

A tentative rustle from above. No doubt that by hiding, Flex had signaled a disadvantage that the beast above sensed. If it’s eat or be eaten, Flex’s choice was clear, and he broke cover, crouched and took rough aim.

The thing growled, a marbled, choking sound. Flex’s sidearm could out-growl that. He shot at the thing in the shadows, missing but making his point. Before he caught so much as a sight of it, the creature’s growls were echoed from all directions.

There were a lot more of the things closing on him. So much for growling. Flex stood and ran like hell in his original direction, laser in fist. He heard rustling above, like a hurricane whipping at the trees. Maybe Annie was lucky; if still unconscious, she would be in the safety of her tumbler.

He thought to turn and fire, but hearing the beasts both behind and above, he knew it wouldn’t buy him a quantizer’s nano. It might, however, get someone else’s attention.

He made for an open area where the predators would have to come down from the heights, improving his odds. In the center of the clearing was a rocky knoll, and he climbed that, turned, and fired at will.

The creatures were cats the size of kzinti, but they were not kzinti. Flex had never seen them before, but they reminded him of saber-toothed tigers from pictures, except that these were green and gray, and stout. Black stripes ran straight back from the eyes like tears peeled from the eyes by racing the wind in the treetops.

He took two of them down with one slow sweep, but one got back up, and a dozen more appeared at the forest wall. The laser wasn’t powerful enough to take out these cats quickly-it would take a concerted beam. Now the tigers were wary, but they quickly circled the clearing. Their ears were long and laid back, their jutting teeth curved like scimitars.

“Can anybody hear me?” Flex shouted to the trees. He repeated the call in the Heroes’ Tongue.

The cats roared, and he fired at will, wheeling from his rocky roost. This cowed them only for a moment, then they moved closer, still circling. No solitary hunters, these. The green cats were methodical and organized. Perfect prey for the kzinti, who were ever thirsty for more challenging sport. Probably genetically created just for this purpose, Flex thought.

He fired more shots, taking out several tigers. He also took some random long shots in the direction he thought the kzinti were. “Come on you ass-lickers!” he shouted at the kzinti. “You’re missing some good killzerkitz hunting here!”

One of the tigers leaped at Flex. He took his best shot, hitting it square in the chest. At the same time, he whirled to find a second cat attacking from his rear. He had anticipated that, and took it down, too. But sooner or later, he would miss, or would be overwhelmed. Sooner, he knew. Even his fellow tumblers could not help him now, and they were doubtless continuing the mission elsewhere.

Angry, Flex fired randomly at the monsters, trying to break up their formation. They slunk back and forth-he had bought a few more seconds.

Then, words, unexpectedly screamed from the shadows. “Hold your fire, you stupid monkey!”

The tigers turned on the speaker, a large kzin hunter who screamed and leaped from the jungle onto the back of one of the green things. Flex expected a furious cat-on-cat fight, but the kzin had the beast in a choke hold with one powerful arm, anticipating its reaction. The startled tiger snapped in that direction, lunging its body around to try to throw the kzin off. The kzin hunter let the tiger toss his legs around, and he used that momentum to advantage with his free arm, clawing a deep gash in an arc across the tiger’s throat.