Ftzaal sniffed. “You would not give me the resources, brother, in the time when we could claim not to know we were bound by the traditions. Now Zree-Rrit has made it explicit and we must tread more carefully.”
“I have given you every resource I could spare.”
“And I have located five czrav prides, one in the jungle, four in the high forest, and destroyed them all. I have not been idle, brother. But there are eight-squared or eight-cubed czrav prides. Maybe more, no one knows. If you want Zree-Rrit destroyed I must have more power, especially now. The czrav won’t be so easy to eliminate under the traditions.”
“Resources.” Kchula paused, contemplating the world turning slowly beneath him. The battle station was in a polar orbit, and South Continent was giving way to North Continent in his field of view. The Plain of Stgrat was clearly visible, stretching wide and green between the ocean to the south and the mountain ranges and deserts that bordered it to the north and west. To the east it was dark, and on the night side of the terminator a sprinkling of lights marked population centers. On the day side there was little to indicate that the world was inhabited at all.
And down there, somewhere, are my enemies. And not only down on the planet’s surface. Kchula turned to face his brother. “While you deal with five prides of primitives the humans have destroyed five worlds. Six now, with the loss of Vz’vzmeer. Skalazaal is epidemic, Kdari Pride wars with Vearow, Stkaa Pride wars with Cvail and now Varalz has leapt on Sceee, and who knows how many more I don’t yet know about? Half the Rrit fleet is out raiding our allies. The Patriarchy is falling apart, Ftzaal, and you ask for more forces for your private hunt!”
Ftzaal stood motionless in leaping-stance, his variable sword extended and canted to guard his body, his other arm stretched backward as a counterbalance. “First-Son-of-Meerz-Rrit is a greater danger to your rule. You said yourself you wanted him destroyed. I am merely telling you what it will take to accomplish your goal.”
Kchula growled deep in his throat. “We have less than perfect control over a few Lesser Prides. The kz’zeerkti are razing whole planets!”
Ftzaal moved fluidly from leaping-stance to guard-stance and then back, repeating the motion until it was perfect. Only then did he break concentration to speak. “Which is why you have ordered our ships back to Jotok.”
“Jotok is our power base. We can’t risk losing it to the kz’zeerkti, or to another pride.”
“Without ships you limit my ability to hunt out this Zree-Rrit.”
“You have reconnaissance enough from this fortress and its brothers.”
“Which move on fixed orbits, and the czrav have shown they know when they are being watched. I need tactical surprise, and more warriors, and mobility for those, and more rapsari.”
“Use cargo haulers to move your forces. Use them in your search as well.”
“They lack a warship’s instrumentation.” Ftzaal leapt and whirled, his blade splitting the air, until his slicewire stopped a handsbreadth from his brother’s nose. Kchula didn’t flinch. He was accustomed to his brother’s battle drills. “The czrav attack from a new direction, did you know that? From a new stronghold, so my spies tell me. It is claimed a kz’zeerkti leads the attacks.”
Kchula spat. “Impossible!”
“Impossible?” Ftzaal retracted his slicewire and hung his variable sword on his belt. “First-Son fled into the jungle with a kz’zeerkti. Now one fights with him. How is this impossible?”
“No kzin would follow an alien.”
“There are stranger things. It is said this new army is composed of kzinretti.”
“Shall I say impossible again, Ftzaal?” Kchula snorted. “Give me evidence or leave me in peace.”
“Evidence. There is none, where none of our warriors survive their attacks. These are rumors, but they are unique rumors, which inclines me to believe them. They are at least worth the effort of verification.”
“Then verify them.”
“I need more resources!”
“Where shall I get them, Ftzaal?” Kchula lashed his tail. “From the defenses of our homeworld?”
“If necessary. Jotok is less important now. We have done the impossible, brother, we have dethroned the Rrit. If you want the victory to last you will make peace with the kz’zeerkti at whatever price they demand, and concentrate everything here. These czrav spread rebellion like a contagion. Let the Great Prides fight each other, so long as they don’t come here.”
“Make peace.” Kchula snorted in contempt. “You have been listening to Kzin-Conserver-who-was-Rrit-Conserver.”
“Conservers are known for their wisdom, brother. We do not have to like his advice to heed it.”
“Making peace smells of dishonor.”
“Don’t talk to me of dishonor,” Ftzaal snarled, suddenly angry. “This campaign has cut close enough to the edge of principle already, close enough that we left Tzaatz-Conserver on Jotok. What would he counsel you?” Ftzaal slashed the air with his sword. “Make peace with the kz’zeerkti to free your hand to consolidate what we have here on Kzinhome. Whether this Zree-Rrit is First-Son does not matter, whether he is even Rrit doesn’t matter. What matters is, he claims the name, and the kzintzag believe him, and so do the Lesser Prides. They believe him because they desire, more than anything, for it to be true, because they suffer under our rule and they loathe our puppet. They will follow Zree-Rrit, whoever he is, all the way to the gates of your Citadel, and they will take off your head to present it to him.”
“Leaving honor aside, if I do not lead the Great Prides in conquest they will not follow me.”
“They are not following you now! The Patriarchy has become nothing but factions warring over spoils while the monkeys carry out the systematic annihilation of our species. Make peace and give me what I need to kill Zree-Rrit! Make peace and save us all!”
“Victory will reunite the Great Prides, and the monkeys will be destroyed.”
“With what will you achieve victory, brother? The Rrit fleet is scattered, our own is committed to Jotok, and inadequate to defend even that against the monkeys’ power. Stkaa Pride is butchered, and Cvail will enjoy their victory only until the kz’zeerkti bring forward their world destroyer. The others, they give you a few token ships while they plot conquest on their brothers, those who have not already leapt in skalazaal. To defeat the kz’zeerkti you need an organized fleet, but before the Great Prides will give you that fleet you must defeat the kz’zeerkti!”
“And yet you want me to siphon from my meager reserves so that you can hunt primitives.”
“Zree-Rrit is First-Son, make no mistake, and he seeks your ears, brother.”
Kchula lashed his tail. “So what if this Zree-Rrit is First-Son? They will never take the Citadel. He’s as bound by skalazaal as we are. Even we did it only because we had rapsari, and we are the only ones who can make them.”
“Rapsari are not the only advantage to be found in battle. Shall I tell you a secret, brother, a Black Priest secret?”
“What is it?” Kchula leaned forward. His brother rarely even mentioned his time with the Bearers of Ill Tiding.
“An army of kzinretti, a Rrit who rides with the czrav, warriors elusive beyond easy understanding. These things are not unanticipated by the Black Cult.”
“So?”
“So they go hand in hand with other things that make this threat more dangerous than you might realize.”
Kchula waved a paw dismissively. “This isn’t a secret, it’s a riddle.”
“I cannot say more without violating my oath.”
“Your oath.” Kchula twitched his tail in annoyance. “What fealty do you owe to Priest-Master-Zrtra now?”
“It is my own honor I owe fealty to, not him. I hold my loyalty to you to the same standard, brother.” He paused, assessing his brother. “Else I might be Pride-Patriarch.”
Kchula’s tail stiffened. “Do you threaten me, Ftzaal?”
“I state a fact.” The variable swor
d blurred and suddenly the slicewire was at Kchula’s throat. “Could you stand against me if I challenged?”
Treachery! My own brother! Fear flooded Kchula’s system. “No, no of course not, Ftzaal.”
Ftzaal held the slicewire where it was for a long moment, his eyes locked on Kchula’s, and then he retracted the blade. “Do not insult my honor again, brother. The fact that you are alive is testimony to its depth.”
Kchula turned away, breathing deep to conceal his anger. “Which gives me no information on your riddle.”
“Take me at my word. You are at more risk from these primitives than you are from the entire kz’zeerkti fleet and the rest of the Great Pride Circle combined.”
Kchula sat heavily on a prrstet. “Fine. What is it you want?”
“Ships in orbit to start, half a dozen scouts.”
“It is done.”
“Jotok’s rapsar production returned to full capacity, with the beasts sent here for my use.”
“You ask a lot.”
“I am saving your empire, and perhaps your life.”
“That too then. What else?”
“Trained warriors, of course, and another telepath. Two would be better.”
“I have asked your priesthood for another telepath. So far they decline my request.”
“This is most crucial.”
“They are your order, not mine. Perhaps you should ask them yourself.”
Ftzaal snorted. “They will grant one to you long before they grant one to me. Our last Telepath’s death at my hands is likely the reason they are slow to respond already.”
“Hrrr.” Kchula wrinkled his nose. “What did you do there, Ftzaal, to make them detest you so?”
“I held up a mirror and showed them the truth.”
“And yet you would go back if you could?”
“I cannot. My oath to you is binding.”
Kchula waved a dismissive paw. “I could release you. What would you do if you had a choice?”
“The Black Priest discipline is…” Ftzaal paused, choosing his words carefully. “…compelling.” He turned to look away. “I still could not go back, they would not have me.” He retracted his variable sword and turned a paw over to contemplate his extended claws. “Not yet.”
Not yet? Kchula raised his ears. My brother contains depths, dangerous depths, though his loyalty is useful. “Do you believe in the literal truth of the Fanged God?”
“The Fanged God is for the High Priests to know. I believe in the literal truth of power.”
“And yet you are content to give me rulership.”
“There is more power in the Black Cult’s discipline than you will know if you rule as Patriarch for eight-to-the-fourth seasons, brother.” Ftzaal turned back to face Kchula, and his eyes shone, bright and intense. “That is something they couldn’t take when they cast me out.”
Kchula shifted, uncomfortable with the topic. “Hrrr. Enough philosophy. What else do you require?”
“That is all for now. The telepath is vital. I must have at least one.”
“I will do what I can.”
“It is First-Son’s kz’zeerkti that is key here. With a telepath I can track it. It is the unknown factor. I need to rake out its story, one way or another. For the rest of them—make peace while we still can, let us secure our back before we look to new conquest.”
“The kz’zeerkti.” Kchula lashed his tail. “They are less a menace than you imagine. I shall tell you a secret too, Ftzaal, one less mysterious than yours.”
Ftzaal unfurled his ears. “What is it?”
“See this ship?” He pointed to the gutted Patriarch’s Talon floating outside the dock. “We are converting it. The kz’zeerkti are powerful, but they have a weakness in that almost all of them still live on their original world.”
“What use is this if we lack the strength to conquer that world? Even the Rrit fleet couldn’t penetrate their system defenses.”
“Conquer their world, no, we cannot do that.” Kchula showed his fangs. “But we can destroy it.”
Ftzaal laid his ears back, shocked. “Destroy it? How?”
“It is a kz’zeerkti innovation, so it is simple poetry that we shall finish them with it. Relativistic weapons, kinetic impactors arriving close to lightspeed.” Kchula raked his claws through the air. “I will strip their world to its core.”
Ftzaal stared at his brother for long heartbeat, aghast. “Have you lost your reason, brother? This is not the fine edge of honor, this is unthinkable! What of the traditions? Are we to become like them?”
“Don’t bother me more with tradition, Ftzaal.” Kchula snorted. “This is about species survival. The monkeys have shown us the way. Now we will follow where they lead. I will scorch their homeworld, and their other worlds will be my conquest prizes. The kz’zeerkti will be a slave race, for once and for all. We need only protect our systems long enough to give us time to strike.” He turned to face his brother. “As for Zree-Rrit, I’ll give you everything you want, including your telepath. You get me what I want. Bring me Zree-Rrit’s head.”
Trade what you have for what you want, trade what you want for what you need.
—Jotoki maxim
“We are being within orbital parameters. Fuel state is being positive. Ktzaa’Whrloo approach control is being contacted on this watch. Initiating transfer from inbound to parking orbit.” Contradictory stood on three armlegs while the other two flipped switches on Black Saber’s control board. Outside the ship’s cramped cockpit the starfield flipped itself over as the Jotok aligned her thrusters to take them into orbit. Ktzaa’Whrloo hung overhead like a ripe popfruit. The ancient seat of Krowl Pride was a dusky red world orbiting a bright orange star.
“Cargo reception?” Night Pilot strapped himself in to his crash couch, ready to take over the watch.
“We have been contacting of our client and cargo reception coordinates are arranged. We are being expecting normal ground handling times.”
“Hrrr. Is the cargo secure for reentry?”
“It is being so. We are being reverifying of it at soon.” Contradictory clicked more keys. “Ship is being secured for atmospheric interface.”
“What is our descent profile?”
“It is being normal atmospheric braked descent with minimum thrusters assist.”
“Hrrr. Good, we’ll save some wear on the thrusters.” Night Pilot checked his screens for the approach. “I have confirmation that we are in atmospheric configuration.” He clicked keys. “I have confirmation that our approach path is clear to preset coordinates.” He clicked more keys. “I have confirmation that we can relaunch immediately once we’re unloaded.” He paused. “Refueling?”
“Refueling is being on orbit at Ktzaa’Whrloo main transfer station after reorbit. We are being confirmed that client Sklar-Overseer has being arranged for fuel at there.”
“Also good.” Night Pilot nearly purred in satisfaction. Black Saber would make a handsome profit this run. A light flashed. “Priority message.” His ears fanned up and he made a gesture to command the ship’s AI to put it on screen.
“…all ships, be aware. Kz’zeerkti scouts have been detected deep in system, orbital parameters to follow. Krowl Pride warcraft are intercepting now. Verarz-Krowl commands nonessential ships in system to proceed beyond the singularity and wait until the invaders have been repulsed. Be prepared to aid survivors and to fight if necessary. Marshaling orbits to follow. Be aware more enemy ships may be in system and undetected. Message repeats…”
Night Pilot made a gesture to cut the transmission, then tapped his console to bring up the enemy’s positions and the commanded escape orbits. His nostrils flared when he saw them. “By the Fanged God, they are deep. How did they get so far in system without being picked up?”
Contradictory whirled, bringing the two armlegs that had been typing down to stand on as he brought two of the ones he’d been standing on up to replace them. “I am being concerned about more forces.”
/>
“Hrrr. Yes…This situation could devolve. The kz’zeerkti are sly. They had so many ships at K’Shai. Now we know the reason.”
“We are being assessing that we should be aborting of the approach.”
“No. We deliver our cargo.”
“The humans are being coming in force.” Contradictory added a third arm to the two constructing intercept profiles with the flight computer. “They are being destroying twice-eight worlds now. If we are being caught our lives are being ended.”
“Honor demands we fulfill our bargain.”
“We are being unconcerned with matters of honor.”
“Then be concerned with your reputation.” Night Pilot flipped his tail in annoyance. “We have no choice but to deliver if we want to carry cargo to this world again.”
“You are being unpersuasive. The humans are being ensuring no cargo are being carried here by any ships at ever.”
“I do not have to persuade you. I am Captain, I have only to decide.”
Contradictory brought up a holo. “Please be viewing of intercept profiles. Human ships are being in intercepting range at departure timing of us.”
Night Pilot growled. “We are landing.”
Contradictory swiveled three eyes at the kzin. “Are you being forgetting of incident of Meerowsk?”
The kzin wrinkled his nose. “I have not forgotten.”
“Your life is being saved by us there. Your life is also being saved by us at Ansrarw.”
“I know this.”
“Please being allowing of us to again being saving of your life at Ktzaa’Whrloo.”
Night Pilot gave his copilot a look. “Have I complained about your argumentativeness recently?”
“You are being complaining constantly. This is why we are being Contradictory as our name.”
“Hrrr. We deliver our cargo.” Contradictory put a fourth limb up to construct intercept scenarios, balancing on the one armleg remaining. Night Pilot bowed to the inevitable. “We will be fast.”
Fast meant a more aggressive approach profile, and a subsequent increase in fuel usage. On reentry Night Pilot pushed the skin temperature to the limit to get the most out of atmospheric braking. Fast meant heavy muscle work for both of them, unloading the motley cargo of cznip spice and fabricator cells that Sklar-Overseer was importing from Reessliu beneath the nose of the Krowl hierarchy, loading up the sealed crates, contents unknown, they would carry to Sklar-Overseer’s contact on Kzinhome. The Whrloo slaves were diligent workers, but their small size meant they needed grav manipulators to unload the heavy crates and bales, and they were slow about it. In the end the need for speed meant that Night Pilot and Contradictory moved more than half the cargo themselves. Fast meant that, with muscles aching and not enough sleep they preflighted Black Saber and took off with a landing gear fault that really should have been fixed on the ground. There was no time to repair it if they wanted to avoid getting caught in the developing battle.