Man-Kzin Wars III by Larry Niven (good short books TXT) 📕

A spasm shook him, but he had spewed out everything in his stomach before he left Swordbeak. Parched and vile-tasting mouth, dizziness, ringing ears, blood coughed forth and smeared over faceplate, wheezing breath, shaky hands, weakness, weakness, yes, it was good to die. He got himself well braced against metal—to be inside this framework was like being inside a cane-brake at home, he thought vaguely, waiting for prey—and pushed with the whole force that remained to him.

Aboard Rover, shortly afterward, they saw their prize disappear.

Chapter XX

Regardless, the homeward voyage began merrily. When you have had your life given back to you, the loss of a treasure trove seems no large matter.

“Besides, a report on Sherrek and her beamcast, plus what we collected ourselves, should be worth a substantial award by itself,” Saxtorph observed. “And then there’s the other one, uh, Swordbeak.” Dorcas had read the name when they flitted across and attached a radio beacon, so that the derelict would be findable. “In a way, actually, more than the black hole could’ve been. Your navy—or mine, or the two conjointly—they’ll be overjoyed at getting a complete modern kzinti warcraft to dissect.”

“What that artifact, and the phenomenon within, should have meant to science—” Peter Nordbo sighed. “But you are right, complaining is ungrateful.”

“No doubt the authorities will want this part of our story hushed up,” Saxtorph went on. “But we’ll be heroes to them, which is more useful than being it to the public. I expect we’ll slide real easy through the bureaucratic rigmarole. And, as I said, get well paid for it.”

“I thought you were a patriot, Robert.”

“Oh, I s’pose I am. But the laborer is worthy of his hire. And I’m a poor man. Can’t afford to work for free.”

They sat in the Saxtorphs’ cabin, the most spacious aboard, talking over a beer. They had done it before. The instant liking they took to one another had grown with acquaintance. The Wunderlander’s English was rusty but improving.

He stroked his beard as he said slowly, “I have thought on that. Hear me, please. My family shall have its honor again, but I disbelieve our lands can be restored. The present owners bought in good faith and have their rights. You shall not pity me. From what I have heard since my rescue, society is changed and the name of Landholder bears small weight. But in simple justice we shall have money for what they stripped from us. After I pay off Tyra’s debt she took for my sake, much will stay with me. What shall I then do? I have my science, yes, but as an amateur. I am too old to become a professional in it. Yet I am too young to . . . putter. Always my main work was with people. What now can I enjoy?” He smiled. “Well, your business has the chronic problem that it is undercapitalized. The awards will help, but I think not enough. How would you like a partner?”

Saxtorph goggled. “Huh? Why, uh, what do you mean?”

“I would not travel with you, unless once in a while as a passenger for pleasure. I am no spaceman. But it was always my dream, and being in an enterprise like yours, that should come close. Yes, I will go on trips myself, making arrangements for cargoes and charters, improvements and expansions. Being a Landholder taught me about business, and I did it pretty well. Ask my former tenants. Also, the money I put in, that will make the difference to you. Together we can turn this very profitable for all of us.

“You cannot decide at once, nor can I. But today it seems me a fine idea. What do you think?”

“I think it’s a goddamn supernova!” Saxtorph roared.

They talked, more and more excitedly, until the captain glanced at his watch and said, “Hell, I’ve got to go relieve Dorcas at the mass detector. I’ll send her down here and the pair of you can thresh this out further, if you aren’t too tired.”

“Never for her,” Nordbo replied. “She is a wonderful person. You are a lucky man.”

Saxtorph’s eagerness faded. After a moment he mumbled, “I’m sorry. I often bull ahead with you as though you hadn’t . . . suffered your loss. You don’t speak about it, and I forget. I’m sorry, Peter.”

“Do not be,” Nordbo answered gently. “A sorrow, yes, but during my time alone, assuming I would grow old and die there, I became resigned. To learn I missed my Hulda by less than a year, that is bitter, but I tell myself we had already lost our shared life; and God has left me our two children, both become splendid human beings.”

The daughter, at least, for sure, Saxtorph thought.

Nordbo smiled again. “I still have my son Ib to look forward to meeting. In fact, since Tyra tells me he is in naval intelligence, we shall be close together—Robert, what is wrong?”

Saxtorph sat moveless until he shook himself, stood up, tossed off his drink, and rasped: “Something occurred to me. Don’t worry. It may well turn out to be nothing. But, uh, look, we’d better not discuss this partnership notion with Dorcas or anybody right away. Let’s keep it under our hats till our ideas are more definite, okay? Now I really must go spell her.”

Nordbo seemed puzzled, a bit hurt, but replied, “As you wish,” and left the cabin with him. They parted ways in the corridor and Saxtorph proceeded to the detector station.

Dorcas switched off the book she had been screening. “Hey, you look like a bad day in Hell,” she said.

“Out of sorts,” he mumbled. “I’ll recover. Just leave me be.”

“So you don’t want to tell me why.” She rose to face him. Sadness tinged her voice. “You haven’t told me much lately, about anything that matters to you.”

“Nonsense,” he snapped. “We were side by side against the kzinti.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Well, I won’t plague you. That would be unwise