The module’s equipment included a large and versatile medical kit. He let Leonie apply a kzin-specific tranquilizer, pain killer and disinfectant and in a few moments—before he could ask Leonie for talcum powder—he was asleep on the floor of the module.
“We must start work early today,” Patrick Quickenden said. “We’ve put in a good effort over the last few days, but this hospitality, not to mention seeing a beautiful new world…It could lull us into forgetting there’s still a war on!”
“Something has developed,” said Jocelyn, “that may be important. We’d like to take…er…Miss Moffet…to see something.”
“She’s a key member of this group,” said Patrick. “I don’t want her put at any risk. In fact I insist!” Jocelyn looked at Arthur Guthlac. She sent him a silent directive.
“There’s no danger,” Arthur told him. “Come yourself. It’s a fairly short flight in a fast car.”
“I don’t like it. There are still kzin on this planet. I’ve seen several already.”
“I take your point,” said Arthur, “but I’m still a Brigadier. I’ll lay on an armed escort.”
“I suppose you know what you’re doing. But the rest of us will stay here and get started.”
“Poor old ratcat!” said Leonie. “He’s been through the mill. And even partial sensory deprivation is tougher on them than on us. It drives them crazy quicker.” The old kzin with his prostheses looked curiously vulnerable asleep, curled something like a house cat in a basket, but with his artificial arm jutting out at an awkward angle. “It would have been more difficult for him than he’ll ever admit to have gone so far through the dark and silence of the caves alone.”
“They never admit weakness,” said Nils Rykermann. “Perhaps they’re afraid it would make them seem too…human.” He paused and added suddenly: “You’ve never hated them as I have.”
“There’s no danger of forgetting they’re not human. And I tried to stop hating them after the cease-fire. It wasn’t easy. If we’d had to live through the Occupation in the cities I don’t think I could have even attempted it. And he helped, old Raargh. He had me at his mercy once, and here I am.”
“Mercy is not a concept they understand,” he said.
“Maybe…and yet, here I am.”
“Anyway, I wanted him out for the count. That’s why I encouraged him to let you treat him. And all my best brandy from the monastery! Do you think he’s telling the truth?”
“I’ve never known one to tell an absolutely outright lie. But what’s he got to lie about? Why else should he be running about in the caves alone and without equipment? And those injuries are certainly real enough.”
“But it’s such an incredible story!”
“I’m not only your wife, I’m your chief research assistant, remember,” said Leonie. “I’ve kept files. We know Henrietta was—is—probably the most hated of all the collaborators. It was an open secret among the Resistance that she was able to influence Chuut-Riit. There were even some Kzin who accused him of…of, well, you can guess. Perhaps she influenced him for good sometimes, but that wouldn’t count. She was born and brought up under the Occupation and knew no life but that uniquely privileged one in a household of prominent collaborators, to whose headship she acceded. You know that after the Liberation there was a special price on her head. As for the atrocities committed against collaborators, we were lucky. We were in the hills and missed it all.”
“It didn’t seem lucky at the time. We were at our last gasp. And I wanted vengeance on collabos and on the Kzin…I still do!” he burst out.
“That won’t bring her back,” said Leonie quietly.
“It’s the next best thing!” Nils Rykermann ground out. Then he bit the air and spun round to face her. He looked as if he had been struck a blow. “You…you knew!” he whispered.
“I always knew. Wasn’t it always obvious? I knew when I was your student that you were in love with her…and since then that you always have been.” She took his hand in both hers and kissed him. “Don’t you remember my hair? How I wore it in those days…with a pink headband?”
“Yes.”
“Why do you think I did that?”
“I never thought.”
“Because that was how she wore hers. Stupid of me, to try to compete with Dimity Carmody!”
“I didn’t know.”
“It didn’t suit me, really. My hair’s darker blond than hers was. My father always called me his little lion cub…I remember, I’d only been enrolled a few days, and I was sitting at one of the Lindenbaum’s tables, with some of the other freshers. We were just getting to know each other and find our way around the class-rooms and time-tables, and suddenly we girls realized that all the boys were staring at this blonde two tables away…I’m sorry, I shouldn’t go on.”
“Yes…yes. Please. Go on.”
“Who’s she? I wondered. A Tridee-star? A fashion model a long way off her turf? Something dumb, anyway, I took for granted, with all my eighteen-year-old sophistication and judgment. The universe couldn’t be so unfair as to give somebody looks like that and brains as well! I wasn’t surprised when she ordered coffee in…in that funny little voice she had…Then somebody told me: ‘Mathematics and astrometaphysics,’ they said. I was taken aback and saw that the universe was that unfair. But…” She gave an uneven laugh. “They didn’t let me have it all at once. Even then, in my teenage jealousy, I thought she was just a particularly bright student. You can’t blame me: She was no older than I. She must be brilliant to be studying Carmody’s Transform, I thought. And then I found out…What we put ourselves through as students!
“Then, of course,” she went on, “we found out what an unfair universe was really like.”
“Yes, love, we certainly found that out.”
“After the kzin destroyed her ship, I saw what happened to you…You told me something about it as we set up the first clinic at the refugee camp…Remember?”
“I remember,” he said. “I thought at the time that only you would have thought in all that death and terror and chaos to bring low-tech medical supplies away, would have realized our autodocs would be useless without our civilization. But I was a walking dead man then.”
“I saw the music box, that the kzin left for you. I knew it was hers. I’d seen her playing it at the Lindenbaum when you and she had coffee there together. I’d…I’d even thought of collecting music boxes, too, so you might notice me. I joined the chess club, too, for an excuse to hang around there, hoping you might one day come alone and notice me. But you never played chess.”
“Because she didn’t. It showed up her abnormality too much. She wanted to be normal. Do you know the last thing she said to me?”
“I’d like you to tell me.”
“She said—sh-she’d already been injured then: ‘It was hard, I know, for you to be in love with a freak. Know, at least, that the freak loves you.’”
“You’ve got a good memory.”
“Too good.”
“I love you, Nils. I loved you at the university and in the refugee camp and in the hills. That night in the hills when I told you I’d always loved you, I was telling the truth. It wasn’t a student with a crush on her teacher. I’d been there and I knew the difference. And I saw you were falling apart. Don’t forget, either, that I’ve been in bed beside you through a lot of nightmares. Or rather the same one. Oh, my darling, of course I’ve always known…I had to accept that she’d always be with you. What choice did I have? You can’t fight the dead, you can only live with them.
“There’s something else,” she went on, and her voice was stronger, almost exultant. “I was there, remember, when the kzin came to the refugee camp. Very few of us had actually seen them then, and I saw you face a creature that made the brave man beside you fall dead of sheer terror. I was there in the days that followed, when it seemed the whole weight of the Resistance, the whole war, rested on your shoulders alone. Not for a day, a week, or a month, but year after year
, and the years became decades and there was no hope and you never faltered. You are not only the man I love, you are my hero!”
“I couldn’t have done it, Leonie, without you. Not for a year, or a month or a week. Truly, you were beside me…love.”
“I’m afraid I opened a bit of a flood-gate there,” Leonie said after a pause. “For us both. I’ve been damming that up for a long time too, you know.”
“I’m glad you did open it, my love. So glad!…But Raargh’s story? And Henrietta?”
“She escaped. You know. Disappeared.”
“I know,” Nils Rykermann said. “Jocelyn has a particular hatred of her. Her business. I have other fish to fry.”
“Until now I thought she was probably dead.”
“So did I. But it’s a whole planet she’s got to hide in. A whole system for that matter. And there are plastic surgeons and organleggers. She might look quite different. New handprints. New lungs to confuse breath analysis. New eyes and new retinas.”
“But the main reason I think Raargh’s story is true,” said Leonie, “is obvious: A kzin both wouldn’t and couldn’t make it up. A mad monkey devoted to Chuut-Riit’s memory trying to lead a kzin revolt! It’s so crazy it has to be true!”
“I’m inclined to agree with you.”
“And he said he was making his way here to see you anyway, as Cumpston said.”
“Yes. But why me?”
“Isn’t it obvious? He trusts you.”
“Why should he? I hate ratcats!”
“Obviously, he doesn’t think you hate him,” said Leonie. “Fighting together in the caves may have something to do with that…perhaps even the fact that he saved my life. And you left the key in the module door.”
“I forgot it! And…and there was no danger around. Morlocks—if there are any left—don’t understand keys.”
“But kzin do.” She quoted, “How brilliantly lit the chambers of the subconscious would be if we could see into them!”
“Who said that?”
“She did. I went to one of her public lectures—on the inspiration of scientific discovery. I knew you’d be there.”
“I’ve tried, you know, I’ve tried very hard, never to let her memory come between us.”
“I know.”
“I’ll call Jocelyn,” Rykermann said after an uncomfortable moment. He keyed a number on the desk and spoke rapidly. “Well,” he said a few moments later, “talk about serendipity. She’s on her way here already. She’s about to leave Munchen with Arthur Guthlac and a party they think I might be interested to meet.”
“What’s that mean?”
Nils Rykermann shrugged. “No doubt we’ll find out. She says Early’s had some sort of alarm too.” He shrugged out of his robe and stepped into the shower cabinet. “Freshen up, anyway,” he remarked, turning on the water.
She dropped her own robe and followed him. “Make love to me,” she breathed, winding her arms round him. “I need you.”
Their faces were nearly on a level. He did not need to bend to kiss her.
“I need you too. I always need you.”
Chapter 8
“Patrick’s too flattering,” said Dimity, as the outlying farmlands flashed away below the car. “I’m not a key member of our group. I’m largely a theoretician and the original work I did on the hyperdrive has been done. I got myself on this party because I wanted to see Wunderland again.”
“Again?” Arthur Guthlac raised his eyebrows. It was on the face of it such an obviously bizarre thing to say. Before the hyperdrive, interstellar travel had involved decades-long flights in hibernation, had been extremely costly and invariably one-way.
“To find out what had happened. I was born here, grew up here…You think that’s impossible?”
“You’re saying you are the Dimity Carmody? Go on. Possibly I know what may have happened.”
“The Crashlanders pulled me out of a ship that reached Procyon flying on automatic pilot, its life systems destroyed by a laser blast and everyone else on board dead. I was in a tank. But I couldn’t remember much of my life. Not who I was apart from my name or what had happened to us. A title that I didn’t understand. I only remembered that something terrible had happened. Images of great ravening cat-beasts, and a man with a yellow beard…and later, when I started reading again, of mathematical symbols…You don’t look too surprised.”
“I’m not. Not after something I heard a couple of nights ago, added to what I’ve seen of you…but now, I wonder.”
“About me?”
“No, whether this trip today was an entirely good idea,” he glanced rather guiltily at Jocelyn, sitting in a blister in the forward part of the car and out of hearing. “Still, we’re on our way now.”
Below them the farmlands were giving way to barren, unsettled country. Flat-topped mesas, several now adorned with sensors or batteries of weapons, told of ancient erosion. Here and there was uncleared wreckage of war.
“It looks familiar,” said Dimity. The great escarpment of the Hohe Kalkstein loomed blue-gray to the northeast.
“This part can’t have changed much in a long while. Not like Munchen and the university. It’s never been settled,” said Jocelyn, returning to the main cabin. She dialed them drinks. Dimity toyed with hers nervously. As it approached the cliffs the car banked slightly and flew up a long canyon. There was a laden vehicle parked on the ground.
The car had a new, kzinti-derived gravity motor and settled with a quiet purring in front of the Drachenholen’s mouth. There was none of the noise and stone-spitting of an old ground-effect vehicle. As they cut the engine several humans emerged from the great cave. “Poor security,” remarked Jocelyn. “This place isn’t so pacified as not to need a lookout.”
Arthur Guthlac surveyed the scene with the car’s security sensors.
“There is a lookout,” he told her. “At least I very much hope that’s what it is. Just inside the cave, partially concealed. I read the signature of a large specimen of what the monitor rather quaintly identifies as Pseudofelis sapiens ferox.”
The Munchen party descended from the car, three of Guthlac’s four guards triangulating the position with professional alertness.
Nils and Leonie Rykermann and their remaining students hurried to greet the party, Raargh emerging after a moment to join them. He carried one of the salvaged kzinti weapons, a thing the size of a small human artillery piece and too heavy for any human in the group to port. Rykermann was carrying a strakkaker he had been cleaning, and Leonie had another slung over her shoulder. The students were also armed.
“Jocelyn! Arthur! I’m glad to see you!” he called, “We’ve got a problem here!” With the air of one springing a surprise that might not be agreeable, he turned to Jocelyn, “I hope you can stand a bit of a shock. As you can see, Raargh, formerly Raargh-Sergeant, is here.
“I know you are old sparring partners,” he went on, awkwardly trying to make light of the situation, “but he has done us a service and brought us valuable information.” He counted the Munchen party. “But we may…need…more…”
His voice died away. There was a metallic rattle as he dropped the strakkaker on the ground. He stood staring, his mouth working.
Jocelyn turned from her affectionate greeting of Leonie. “Hullo, Nils,” she said. “I believe you’ve met Dimity Carmody before. Recently arrived from We Made It.”
Dimity Carmody too was staring as if she could hardly credit her senses. In mirror-image gestures each raised a hand. Their fingertips, trembling, touched. Their fluttering fingers raised, slowly, to touch each other’s faces.
Neither had eyes for Jocelyn van der Stratt as she turned abruptly away from them, her face contorted. Only Raargh saw it. He was not an expert in interpreting simian expressions, but his ziirgah sense picked up a hatred like a physical blow. For a second he gave renewed thanks he was not a telepath. He thought this sudden wave of volcanic hatred that flowed from her was directed entirely at him. But he was a Hero practi
ced in self-control, and the situation demanded discipline. Seeing, at long last, what sort of monkeymeat Jocelyn made would not help Vaemar. His tail lashed the ground, but he remained otherwise impassive.
“I’m sorry,” said Dimity. She was still staring at Nils Rykermann but speaking apparently to everyone. “There is a lot I don’t remember. I was hurt, you know.”
They made their way to the main camp. Dimity stared about her, touching the back of her head with a characteristic nervous gesture, keeping well away from Raargh. She seemed to recognize the module. Jocelyn and Raargh glared at one another, Jocelyn’s body language almost kzinlike, with barely pent attack reflex, Raargh using his lips and tongue to cover his teeth with a conscious effort, the tips of the glistening black claws of his natural hand peeping from between the pads. Nils Rykermann walked like a man in a daze.
Leonie, blank-faced as a soldier under inspection, explained what had happened, Raargh elucidating at various points.
“Can we be sure it’s Henrietta?” Jocelyn ground out. Her teeth were clenched and her eyes shining now. Her fingers ran through the ears on her belt-ring, as if counting them over and over.
“That’s how she identified herself. Raargh never saw her before. But why should any impostor wish to boast falsely of being the most hated human on the planet? And she has a recording of Chuut-Riit. Raargh thinks it’s probably genuine, not a VR mock-up. He saw Chuut-Riit alive.”
“I have seen Chuut-Riit alive, and I have seen her before!” said Jocelyn. “The last time was when she accompanied Chuut-Riit to the start of a public hunt. Among the game turned loose for the kzin were some convicted humans in whom I had a…very personal interest. And I was in police uniform. I remained impassive and betrayed nothing, like a well-trained monkey. To have betrayed anything would only have achieved a place for me in the hunt as well. It was as I stood there that I vowed to kill her with my own hands. I will get her. If necessarily alone.”
Raargh raised the torn remnants of his ears in the equivalent of a human nod of understanding. Actually he was thinking of what dead Trader-Gunner had said to him the day of the cease-fire when he met Jocelyn: “Those manrretti can be trouble.” I have always wanted that tree-swinger dead, but for Vaemar’s sake as well as the word I gave I must be calm, he thought again. He had schooled himself for the company of one or two humans, preferably on his own ground or in the open. Being confined in the living-module with thirteen of them was a strain, especially with several of them giving out emotions that battered at his ziirgah sense. Leonie, who, after the battle with the Morlocks he thought he knew, was throwing out an emotional shield such as he had never encountered before. He wondered why. A short time before she had seemed relaxed and calm. That had been after mating, he knew, but even allowing for what monkeys were like, what had been a radiant, almost tangible happiness seemed to have worn off very quickly.