Hal Colebatch - Man-Kzin Wars – XIII

Before the other tigers could react, he had torn open the furry neck of the tiger and thrown the bleeding carcass onto its back. At the same time, a dozen more kzinti screams, and as many dead tigers, and Flex, staring breathless at the slaughter around him.

But three kzinti stood prizeless at the jungle edge, glaring at Flex with eye slits as sharp as their claws. “You stole our prey from us,” one snarled, kicking one of the cats Flex had shot.

Flex exhaled deeply, relieved that the tigers were all lifeless, and certain he could not escape or fight his way out of this jam. He shrugged and dropped his weapon, thinking hard of a ruse to save his skin, and Annie’s.

“You’re wasting your time toying with these pussies,” he said, grinning carefully so as not to show his teeth provocatively. “I know something more challenging for you to hunt, and far more rewarding.”

Flex stood in the den of Jarko-S’larbo, stripped of weapon, wristcomp, and clothes. The three kzinti hunters whose game he had killed stood around him, constantly poking and clawing at him, gently by their standards, but with the successful intention of drawing a little blood.

The den looked vaguely like a hunting lodge, if only because Flex knew that was its function. It was a long, tall hall with windows on the left, tall tiers of blue carpeted couches on the right, all empty. At the far end was a massive iron fireplace the size of a small lander, burning only a modest fire to one side. Most telling were the numerous trophies, huge toothy creatures stuffed in the most horrific poses. These formed two lines of the grand hall, standing fierce on pedestals carpeted with live grass, perhaps as an eternal insult. They were guardians of an old way of life, preserved by the modern kzinti as evidence of the deep instincts that had not been bred out of them despite centuries of attempts by other space-faring species. The angry kzinti forcibly marched Flex through the gauntlet of taxonomic terrors to the great hearth where the puffy Jarko-S’larbo sat on a cushion, looking like nothing less than an overweight tabby cat curled in front of a fireplace. Next to him purred a prret , a female concubine. Not only was she sleeping, she was also loosely bound with red leather leashes, the purpose of which Flex did not want to know. To the left rose a wall of windows, dripping on the outside with condensation that distorted the view of the jungle playground.

“Jarko-S’larbo, I presume.”

“Should I get up?” growled S’larbo, wuffling his tattooed ears.

What a fat, lazy puss, thought Flex. “Not on my account,” he said, in the Heroes’ Tongue.

With a hiss, and rapidity surprising for his size, Jarko-S’larbo bounded to his feet, baring his teeth in Flex’s face. “In my den, you do not speak unless ordered to, kshat .”

Flex put a hand over his mouth in deference, and S’larbo stepped back, arching his back and curling his upper lip in minor victory. At his full height, S’larbo did not appear so fat and lazy. He had flattened his fur to show off his musculature, and he turned his back dismissively.

Wheeling back, he said, “I already know what you are doing here, and I am going to stuff you for it.” S’larbo paced around Flex, whipping his hairless tail cruelly across the cuts already inflicted by the hunters. So much for the myth that the tails were useless vestiges. Flex knew better than to wince. Besides, he prided himself on his rhino hide, the extinct rhinoceros being his martial arts totem. S’larbo inspected his trophy gallery, stopping at the smallest, least-imposing creature. “I think I’ll put you here. A monkey isn’t so threatening as this pitiful specimen, but if I pose you properly, perhaps with a bigger weapon than that piss squirter you came with…”

“Do you think hunting these overgrown fleas was compensation for fear of real predators?” Flex said, deciding it was time to risk speaking. He used the mocking tense of the Heroes’ Tongue, to ruffle the fur.

One of the hunters knocked him to his knees, but S’larbo snarled a “Belay!”

“You know what I’m talking about,” said Flex, not getting up. “The Puppeteers are essentially hunting you to extinction. However cowardly they are, and however unfair they fight, the end result is the same.”

S’larbo licked his whiskers. “It is you humans who have hunted us for them. If they are puppeteers, then you are the puppets. And by the way, you have just confirmed that you have infiltrated this place to kill as many of our offspring as you can.”

Just as well that S’larbo bought the cover story, thought Flex. He could negotiate on that basis. “That is only partly true,” he said. “Some of us came for that purpose.” He watched for reaction, unsure whether the kzin knew about his human companions. Using the most formal words in the Heroes’ Tongue he knew, Flex said, “I myself have sworn not to kill any of your kittens on this mission.”

“We killed the other monkeys,” S’larbo said. “They landed in a secluded place nearby, while your decoy in space tried to fool us.” He hissed and spat on Flex. “You stupid monkeys! You think we are so foolish as to fall for that trick? Your cunning ways have served you long enough, but we are on to them.”

“You killed all three men?” Flex said, probing.

“There were four!”

Good, thought Flex. Not that he felt good about the others being killed and eaten, but at least they hadn’t found Annie yet.

“So you see,” S’larbo continued, “we have enough human meat to satisfy our customers’ wildest dreams, leaving you for my gallery.”

“You’ll let me go.”

S’larbo leaped into the air, turning full around and lashing Flex’s face with his tail in the process. “Ouch,” Flex said sarcastically.

“Why should I let you go?”

“Because I am not really part of this operation,” he said. “I was planted with them for a different purpose. That’s why I broke away from them before landing. In exchange for my life, I will give you whatever information you wish.”

Jarko-S’larbo turned to stoke his fire, gazing into it the way humans have done for centuries when lost in thought. He had them intrigued. Before they came to some decision, he had to play another big card, to gain what advantage he could.

“There is one more human with me,” he said. “She’s injured, and I want you to help me find her and let us go. If you do that, I promise you will find what I have to tell you well worth it. Remember, we still have a big advantage orbiting your establishment.”

“She?” S’larbo repeated, turning back to Flex, his interest piqued. Flex regretted the word instantly. “There was a female with you out in the park?” To the hunters, S’larbo said, “Go find her, before the sizzle-teeth do!”

And to Flex, “I have never tasted a human female before. She will make tonight’s dining a one-in-a-million experience for the hunters. Then maybe it will be the humans that will become extinct, starting with her.”

All three hunters pounced out to initiate a search, leaving Flex alone with S’larbo. Two guards paced at the back of the room, their hind claws clacking on the stone floor. Flex weighed his chances and concluded that he could not fight his way out of this one. His only hope of saving her lay with this whiskered slob.

“We’re not done yet,” Flex said. “Have you ever heard the saying, ‘If you need information, you need a Jinxian’? Well that’s me. That’s how I earn my kibbles and cream.”

“My grandfather had a saying, too,” S’larbo said. “‘Monkey lie, monkey die.’ Why it took so long for us to realize that you don’t think honorably the way we do I don’t know. But you can give up your feeble attempts to deceive me. I have already caught you in a lie about your numbers.”