The Man-Kzin Wars 07

CHAPTER TEN

It had been several hours since Diplomat had outlined the plan, and he still could not read the humans well. He knew little about decoding their bizarre body language, changes in chemistry and skin conductivity: all the hints he would need to better predict their actions. Still, was he not known as Diplomat?

"Little Talker," rumbled Guardian, "you do not seem afraid of these aliens now.”

Diplomat nodded agreement. In a way, he would miss the giant puppeteer.

True, Diplomat was not as afraid as he had been. Of course, it helped that they were nowhere near the small supply of transformation virus the Dissonant mechanicals had found in the hold of the small human warship. And the humans were on the other side of a force-shield, with no means to disrupt the barrier.

Diplomat had once again focused his minds on the issue at hand, as he had among the Q'rynmoi. If they could not trap and destroy this upstart faction of Outsiders that the Dissonants had discussed, more was at stake than simply the fate of two primitive and warlike species. That briefing had burned out most of Diplomat's fear. There was fear and then there was Fear.

Diplomat knew something that nonpuppeteers did not: his race was cowardly, until there is no choice but to be brave.

His supply of antidread drugcud helped, of course.

Perhaps the Zealots would put a stop to all warmlife, if they could convince enough of the other Outsider factions to join their philosophy. All warmlife in this region were at risk, including the puppeteer race.

The former Pak threat was insignificant in comparison. The Outsiders were everywhere, and potent with unknown abilities.

Much had become clear since he and Guardian had received their briefings, when they had arrived at the Outsider groupship. Dissonants, Traditionalists, Zealots. The faceless form of an Outsider held diversity and challenge, opportunity and threat.

Diplomat and Guardian had taken time to digest and rechew the information given to them, while the damaged humans and kzin were speed-healed by Outsider technology. More accurately, technology developed on one of their hominid experimental worlds, on the other side of the galaxy.

"Dissonants," he sang to the air around him.

"I hear you, Diplomat," replied the voice. It sounded like an educated puppeteer, but he knew that it was a sophisticated translation program. The Outsiders had deep difficulties with communication without such translators. Soon, they would have such a program for these humans. Until then, Diplomat had to speak for them.

"Is everything in readiness?”

"Yes," came the reply. "There is little choice, actually. If we do not stop the Zealots, here and now, we will all lose much.”

Diplomat moved tongue across finger-lips. "Why should the human Bruno help?”

"Indeed. Why should Guardian, or the kzin?”

That had been Diplomat's greatest victory: convincing the furious carnivore that his entire race was in peril, and giving him a chance to help preserve the kzin. "I would much prefer to eat the monkeys," the kzin had told Diplomat. He had then gone on to threaten Diplomat himself, which was both typical and unimportant. Force-screens were everywhere, and Rrowl-Captain's threats empty.

And Diplomat had no time to be frightened. Later, yes.

As for the Guardian puppeteer, such was her duty and pleasure both. She had gone so far as to verbally worry about Diplomats safety afterwards, which was out of character for the gruff soldier. "Diplomat, the Zealots are here in hyperspace with us, and are closing quickly. The spacecraft is ready.

The other crewmembers are ready. We must have Bruno Takagama – and his brain – on board." Diplomat rose to his feet and walked swiftly to the force-shield window. "Mr. Takagama," he called in the barbarous language the primates used, devoid of music and joy and structure.

The male and female humans walked toward Diplomat, holding hands. The puppeteer guessed this was a gesture of affection. "We need," began Diplomat, "a decision from you. The Zealots approach in hyperspace, and we intend to use a… what is the word?… booby trap to stop them." The taller human – Carol Faulk – had a face without expression. "And you want us to go along?" "Indeed. You, my Guardian, and the kzin." "Who will surely eat us," snapped the female. "I rather doubt it," soothed Diplomat. "There is more at stake here than your own interspecies battles.

And Guardian will guard you as well." The male human, Bruno, looked confused. "I still don't see why your plan will work." "The Zealots, like our hosts, have a reflex about obtaining information. It is ingrained in every molecule of their being, for reasons older than stars. They will not be able to not interrogate the converted spacecraft we have prepared. And you, if they can.”

"Why not simply destroy it?" the female human asked. "Because," repeated Diplomat patiently, "they cannot help but want to know everything about you before they destroy you. Once destroyed, it would be impossible to obtain more information.”

"I see," mused the center of their plan, already programmed – without his knowledge – by the Outsiders. Diplomat watched the male human scratch at the interface plug in his neck. How glad I am, thought Diplomat, that I do not have computational machinery in my head. Diplomat did not want to lie actively. "I would not expect all of you to live.”

The human called Carol Faulk expelled air from her lips. "No one will live on that ship," she exclaimed.

"And if we do not try, your species – and many others – will be in peril." The female tried to reply, her tone a song of anger, but the little male human put a hand on her shoulder. Diplomat looked at him expectantly.