Eric Flint - The Rats, the Bats and the Ugly

Ogata looked a little taken aback. "That would surely depend on the definition of 'sound.' "

"That might be true. But having acquired a perfectly usable but large and empty mind the person that is Ariel is expanding her Ratshipness into it all. She was a bright rat and Gainor was a smart woman. The combination has made Ariel intimidatingly intelligent. I pity anyone who tries to prove in court that there's anything 'unsound' about her mind. Trust me on this one."

"But her personality… uh, that is…" Ogata, unusually, seemed to be groping for words.

Fitz shrugged. "From what I can see, it's all Ariel. I admit, it's a bit hard to tell sometimes. Tana Gainor was a predatory person and, well, in a lot of ways that describes Ariel to a T. The rats are predators, technically speaking, since their personalities are based mainly on shrew genetic stock. On the other hand, Ariel's as loyal as they come, which God knows Gainor wasn't. She even told me she's willing-though I'd have to make it up to her with plenty of chocolates-to abandon sensible ratly promiscuity for this silly human 'faithful' business."

Fitz's grin seemed fixed in place. "Have you any idea of just how rich Tana Gainor was, Colonel Ogata? Ariel was down at the bank finding out, the day after she 'woke up.' Trust a rat to check her loot first. Ill-gotten gains, most of it, I don't doubt for a minute. But there's no proof of that, and-legally, legally-it all now belongs to Ariel."

Ogata's skin color made it difficult for him to turn pale. But he did a pretty fair imitation. "Oh, no," he groaned.

"Oh, yes," countered Fitz. "Have you any idea what the ex-2IC of the Ratafia is planning on doing with all that money? I did get her to swear that she'd wouldn't actually break any laws, although I'm sure she'll interpret that promise with a ratly twist. The bats might be altruistic with Virginia's fortune… but I promise my Ariel is not, with her own."

The taller of the two surviving conspirators sprinkled soil on the grave. "Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet princess, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest."

He dusted off his hands. "I shall miss her. I surely will."

The other conspirator, in a well-practiced gesture, hitched up his pants. "Now that she's not around to hear it… Well. So will I. A lot. She was the only one around who could really give me a good match, insult-wise."

General Needford gave Liepsich a level stare. "There are times when you remind me of a five-year-old. I admit, you're precocious."

The scientist smiled. "Not that you aren't so bad yourself. Courage, courage. We'll still need to work together, in the years ahead, even if our conspiracy is now over."

"True. Now that Sanjay's dead, her children will need godparents for a while. But only that, henceforth. We will manipulate them no longer."

"Don't think there's much need to, anyway."

The general shrugged. "Even if there were, I'd insist we forego it. We conspired because we needed to. The need now gone, we must be careful that the habit does not develop its own dynamic. Let Sanjay Devi's final gift to us be her favorite saying: 'All life is an imitation of the Scottish play.' Beware the danger of ambition."

Needford looked every inch the judge, now. Even Liepsich shied away.

"Hey, relax! The thought never crossed my mind. Besides…"

Liepsich's laugh was almost a cackle. "Manipulating that lot, now that they're out of their cages-much less controlling them-is something only a madman would choose for a hobby."

The quartermaster was practically livid.

"It's all very well getting the cooperation of the miserable creatures. 'Winning their hearts and minds,' all that blather. But what kind of military requisition is a million pairs of rat-sized blue suede shoes?!"