Man-Kzin Wars V by Larry Niven (people reading books txt) 📕

"Accepted," he said, and leaned forward to press his palm to the recorder.

* * *

". . . and that, my dear, was how Jonah Matthieson came to be prospecting in these hills," Montferrat finished.

Night had fallen during the tale, and the outdoor patio was lit by the dim light of the town's glowstrips. Insectoids fluttered around them, things the size of a palm with wings in swirling patterns of indigo and crimson; they smelled of burnt cinnamon and made a sound as of glass chimes. Tyra took a cigarette and leaned forward to accept the man's offer of a light, she leaned back and blew a meditative puff at the stars before answering him.

"You certainly don't believe in letting the left hand know what the right does, do you, Herr Montferrat Palme. Claude."

His grin was raffish and his expression boyishly frank. "No," he said. "But I'll tell you everything . . ."

She raised a brow.

". . . that I think you need to know. I'm still uncertain of Jonah—uncertain of what the psychists did to him. I need someone to watch him; to report back to me, if there's any sign he's not what he pretends to be. And unobtrusively check up on any attempt to sabotage his expedition. You're the perfect choice, young and obscure . . . and Jonah is likely to trust you, if that's necessary."

"Well and good, and I can use the employment," Tyra said, giving him a level stare. "But what are your purposes here, myn Herr?"

"Money." After a moment he continued: "For a reason. I've got political plans. Not so much ambitions—with my history I'll never hold office—but I have candidates in mind. Harry, for one . . . I intend, in the long run, to put a glitch in Herrenmann Reichstein-Markham's program; he'd make a very bad caudillo, and I think he's got ambitions in that direction." Tyra nodded grimly. "Beyond that, I want to get the ARM out of Wunderlander politics—a long-term project—and ease the transition to democracy.

"Not," he went on with a slight grimace, "the form of government I'd have chosen, but we have little choice in the matter, do we? In any case, I need money, and I need information, which is power. This business is just one gambit in a very complicated game."

"I've never been called a pawn so graciously before," Tyra said, rising and extending her hand. The older aristocrat clicked heels and bent over it. "Consider it a deal, Claude."

CHAPTER NINE

The convoy was crowded and slow as it ground up the switchbacks of the mountain road. Hovercraft had a greasy instability in rocky terrain like this, setting Jonah's teeth on edge. The speed was disconcerting, too. Insect-slow, in one sense, compared to the singleships and fighter stingcraft he had piloted in the War, but you could not see velocity in space. Uncomfortably fast in relation to the ground; he kept expecting a collision-alarm to sound. He ignored the sensation, as he ignored the now-familiar scent of kzin, and scrolled through the maps instead. The flatbed around them was crowded, with farmers and travelers and mothers nursing their squalling young, and a cage full of shoats that turned hysterical every time the wind shifted and they scented Bigs and Spots. The kzin were sleeping; they could do that eighteen hours a day when there was nothing else to occupy their time.

Hans tapped the screen. "No sense in looking anywhere near here, like I said," he went on. "Surveyors found it all, and then when it got worth taking the contractors took it all out, twenty, thirty years ago. We'll buy some animals in Gelitzberg and—"

An alarm did go off, up in the lead truck. Almost at once an explosion followed, and a slow tide of dirt and rock came down the hillslope to their right, with jerking trees riding atop it like surfboarders on a wave. The autogun on the truck pivoted with smooth robotic quickness and its multiple barrels fired with a noise like yapping dogs, streaks of light stabbing out at other lines of fire reaching down from the scrubby hillside. Magenta globes burst where the seeker missiles died, but more lived to smash their liquid-metal bolts into engines; then the guard truck took the avalanche broadside and went spinning down the slope to vanish in a searing actinic glare as its power core ruptured. Molecular distortion batteries could not explode, strictly speaking, but they contained a lot of energy.

By that time Jonah had already rolled off the flatbed and dived for the roadside bush; he had seen boarding actions during the war, and had trained hard in gravity. He landed belly-down and eeled his way into the thick reddish-brown native scrub, ignoring the thorns that ripped at his exposed hands and face. To his surprise, Hans was not far away and moving rather more quietly. The response of the two kzin was not surprising at all; they went over the heads of their human companions and up the hillside in a series of bounding leaps, then vanished into cover with an appalling suddenness.

Jonah licked at the sweat on his upper lip and took up the trigger slack on his magrifle. It was a cheap used model, and the holo sight that sprang into existence over the breech quivered slightly and never reached the promised x40 magnification. It was still much better than nothing, and he used it to scan the upper slope carefully, starting close and working back. The bandits were visible in short snatches, working their way cautiously toward the wrecked convoy. Fire still crackled overhead from passengers and guards; the bandits returned it with careful selectivity, not wanting to damage their loot more than was needful. One face showed through a gap between rocks for an instant, a heavy pug countenance with brown stubble and a gold tooth.

If they had seeker missiles, they've probably got a good jammer, Jonah thought. No help to be expected anytime