Larry Niven’s Man-Kzin Wars - XIV Read online

  “No, not then. Senechel was out of his depth. He did his best, and we owe him for what preparation there was, but he couldn’t think in the appropriate way after centuries of ARM-enforced pacifism. Considering the conditioning he labored under, he did heroically. Finally Templemount took over. That fat old man, who had been in every party and who none of the political class trusted. He roused Earth and the Belt to fight to the bitter end. He sent out counterattacks to catch the kzin fleets while they were still outfitting. He even sent an expedition to find your homeworld. It was armed with The Sabbath Goat.”

  “What was that? I don’t know of it.”

  “Believe me, it is better you don’t. Anyway, they were never heard of again. Perhaps one of your patrols got them.

  “Anyway, without Templemount we would have surrendered before the hyperdrive arrived. And those were conservatives who wanted it, more than the liberals, which tells you that parties can change, sometimes very quickly if there is a leader of principle like Templemount.”

  “Kzin politics seems much simpler,” Vaemar remarked. “It’s largely a matter of fighting to get to be in charge of the whole system. We don’t have anything like political parties. I suppose we have clan loyalties, but there are lots of clans. They form alliances, but break them whenever it is convenient. Formal notice should be given in such cases. Perhaps in the Patriarch’s palace things are a little different.”

  Vaemar tried to find common patterns between kzin and human culture, and decided he needed to study kzin history as well as human history. “Alright, shelve that for the present, as you human beings say. What exactly is a policy? Parties seem to have lots of them.”

  “If you are going to keep a party together, everyone has to agree on some things that are important and need doing. Once they’ve agreed, it gets written down and is called a ‘policy.’”

  “What if you don’t agree?”

  “Well, you have to vote in the approved way in the house, or the party may expel you. But you get a chance to determine what the collective policy will be when it’s being debated in the party room. At least, that’s how the conservatives do it.”

  “What do the liberals do?”

  “They have a smaller group called a ‘caucus’, which decides what the policies will be. They used to have it open to every member of the party, not just politicians, but it was too unwieldy. Or maybe sometimes the party voted for things the leaders didn’t want. There are all sorts of ways of getting your ideas imposed on other people. It’s much easier to do this in a party of collectivists, where social disapproval is a serious threat. In a party of individualists you need compelling arguments. Sometimes, historically, both parties are very collectivist or hierarchical or both, and the individualists in the world at large get practically no say in what is decided. It’s not quite that bad at present, but it could get that way.”

  “I don’t think I’m a very collectivist being,” Vaemar said slowly.

  “Well, at least you’ll be in the right party. You wouldn’t last long in the liberal party,” the abbot pointed out.

  “This business of having to vote for something I might disagree with. What if someone asks me if I agree with a policy that I didn’t vote for, and thought was wrong but was outvoted on? I shall just have to say that the rules are that I have to, and I follow the rules. And then they would ask why do I follow such stupid rules, and I can’t think of any good answer,” Vaemar complained.

  “Happens all the time. The good answer is that if you want to get anything right done, you have to have a party, and that means you will sometimes have to put up with something stupid being done. I must admit that when politicians are asked a question like that, they usually answer a totally different question and hope nobody will notice.”

  “Does it work?”

  “Not very often, except with the stupid.”

  “I’m glad, because I don’t think I could do that. I should just answer the question truthfully.”

  The abbot’s shoulders heaved as he manfully suppressed a laugh. “That would surprise everyone. And a good thing it would be, too.”

  “This interview committee I am seeing tomorrow. Are there right answers and wrong answers to the questions they will ask me? Is it like a mathematics viva voce? Or is it quite different? What are they trying to find out?”

  “Different committee members will have different concerns. Some will want to be reassured that you aren’t going to rip apart any member of the government who you happen to disagree with. Not that they’d mind if you did for themselves, but it would look bad. Others will want to be confident that you will toe the party line and not argue back. You won’t keep those people happy whatever you say, so don’t bother about them. Just be yourself and tell the truth as you always do; let them work out the probable consequences. I shall be on the committee, and they know you are my preferred candidate. I shan’t be able to vote, of course, but I can present some arguments. I’m quite looking forward to it. I don’t say you’ll get the approval of a majority, but at least you won’t be dull. Some of them will prefer dull, but there are some sensible people there who will see you as an opportunity.”

  Vaemar looked doleful. He had never much enjoyed examinations, but at least in mathematics, you knew where you were. And even in history, which was a bit trickier, if your facts were right and your arguments solid, you survived.

  The villagers now had horses, and ploughing was a lot easier. Ruat watched them ride about in disbelief. The horses no longer panicked when he was upwind of them. He wondered if somewhere there was an animal he could ride. It would have to be a lot bigger than a horse, and he had never seen anything that might do, but the country was big, and who knew? He had never seen horses before the villagers had bought some with his gold. Not that it was his gold any longer, of course; he had traded it for other things. Medicine, and help in building…a…home. That was the word. Owning things was not an unfamiliar concept in principle, kzin nobles and officers owned things. Names, and slaves, and homes. But for a low-grade kzin, it hardly ever made sense to own anything. But, Ruat reflected, now he did own things. Maybe that made him some sort of noble. It was a strange idea, but not without attraction.

  Ruat paced along outside the stockade. He was on patrol. A silver five-pointed star hung from a silver chain around his neck. He even knew what the words embossed on the star meant. Sheriff. He could pronounce that word now, quite clearly. The judge was the Law East of the Ranges, and Ruat enforced the judge’s law. That’s what sheriffs did. Because his honor required it, he was going to do it well.

  Of course, it was pretty easy.

  “Tell me, Lord Vaemar, why exactly do you want to join the conservative party, and why in particular do you want to stand for the Grossgeister District?” The questioner was the chairman, actually a woman, with a thin, worried look and wispy hair, wearing a hat that looked like roadkill. She looked up at Vaemar nervously.

  Vaemar responded promptly: “I want to join the conservative party because I want to conserve something, the Grossgeister Swamp. And I have long associations with the area, I know some of the people here, humans and kzin. They are fine people and I like nearly all of them. One of them, the old man known as Marshy, saved my life and my mate’s life, as well as that of my…colleague…Swirl-Stripes and other humans. I have helped explore the swamp, and am well aware of the vast variety of life-forms there, many rare and…” it was a strange, difficult word to pronounce…“beautiful. Never will I forget watching the creatures of the swamp passing through the water by Marshy’s window—the procession of bright creatures passing was one of the wonders of this world—or the bioluminescent life-forms at night. Further, there are the dolphins, your allies. And our sentient brothers, at least. For them it is hunting ground and nursery. There are land-dwelling animals on the bigger islands, and stretches of blue water. Future generations will thank us for preserving it.”

  “Didn’t the kzin burn the heart out of it during the war?” so
meone asked.

  “Assessing the damage was one of the purposes of my expedition,” Vaemar replied. “Although other events overtook us, I am happy to report that it appears to be recovering rapidly. I believe in a few years no trace of damage will remain, if it is simply left untouched. And the expedition team I went on was good training for me in leading a mixed human-kzin team successfully.”

  “And you brought out specimens of value,” piped up one old fellow, evidently trying to be helpful.

  “Yes. Among other things, the only surviving specimens we know of unattached Jotok on this planet. They are being reared at the monastery.” He had also brought out Karan, but she was not the business of these men.

  “There are many other swamps,” said someone. It was true. Frequent meteor strikes had left much of Wunderland’s coast riddled with circular holes like a Swiss cheese. Nonetheless, Vaemar’s words seemed to have moved the meeting. Further, they had forgotten the dolphins, and many felt guilty of their forgetfulness at Vaemar’s reminder.

  Vaemar could feel a current running against the interjector. It was not merely a subjective impression. Like all male kzin, he had a rudimentary ability to detect emotions, which with the telepaths was developed into a complete sense. Like most kzin he had felt rather embarrassed by this, precisely because of its connection with the despised telepath caste. Suddenly he realized what a useful political asset it might be.

  “We kzin,” he continued, “have at times destroyed species in our wars, but never willingly or wantonly. Even when the Chunquen fired missiles at us from their submerged sea-ships, we only boiled part of their seas.”

  “Very nice of you,” someone muttered. Vaemar looked at the interjector, who seemed to suddenly shrink under his gaze. Vaemar was big, even for a kzin.

  “But why should a kzin want to go into politics at all?” a heavily built man with a ginger beard sat next to the woman and scowled as he asked his question. The panel were seated around a table, and Vaemar stood before it, looming over them. When he had come into the room, the chairman had invited him to sit in the solitary chair facing the table, and then stopped in embarrassment. Kzin didn’t normally use chairs, and few human chairs would have survived, this one clearly would not. Then he had been asked if he would care to lie down on the carpet, and had politely declined. Nobody argued the point.

  “My species is sharing this world with yours. We have the vote, although I do not know of a kzin who has used it. So far we have been somewhat dismissive of the political process, but that must change in time. I am the first to consider standing for public office, but I will not be the last. When the kzin see that they have some measure of control over their own future by reasoned debate, they will start taking an interest. It is not in our traditions, this democracy. But not all human beings have been used to it either. Perhaps it is similar to the way in which Japan on your homeworld came to accept and even embrace what must have seemed a very alien way of doing things.”

  There was a stunned silence. Vaemar knew a lot more about human history than the committee did, and this was a little embarrassing. He recognized Nils and Leonie Rykermann, sitting towards the back of the room. That meant some support for him, at least. The sight of them brought back old memories.

  “Hmmph. Well, be that as it may, what do you do in the Bundestag when a liberal front bencher smiles at you? Are you going to go into attack mode and rip his throat out?”

  “Liberal members are not going to do much smiling at me. But in general, I agree that there is a problem. I am actually quite used to people smiling at me, and at each other in my presence. Nils and Leonie Rykermann tried not to, but they gradually forgot, and Dimity Carmody does it all the time these days. Yes, it triggers a reflex, but if you or any other human sees someone of the opposite sex who attracts you, you do not automatically commit rape. You have been socialized. It is harder for kzin, who do not socialize so readily, we are more impulsive, and it is harder for the older ones. I do not encourage human beings to show their teeth, but not because I cannot contain my reaction. It would go hard with them if they were to forget that not all kzin were socialized with human beings as much as I have been. This will gradually change as more kzin get used to the strange way you show an emotion which we express quite differently, and which we can misinterpret rather easily. But no. I shall not tear out any throats from the opposite side. Not unless they really irritate me.”

  That last was Vaemar’s idea of a joke. It fell very flat. Nobody was quite sure what to do about it. He realized he had to tell them.

  “That was a joke. Not a very funny one, perhaps. We kzin do not have the same sense of humor as you do, although we also react to the incongruous.”

  “I would advise against humor in general.” The man with the beard looked as if it was a long time since he’d tried any.

  There was a pause. The majority of the committee were obviously making up their minds that Vaemar was going to be more of a liability than an asset. As a filler question and an attempt to see if there was any prospect at all of anything positive coming out of the interview, a solidly built woman at the end asked her only question: “Do you think that kzin will more likely vote for one of their own?”

  “The kzin will have no interest in the species of their representative. But once they decide to engage, almost all will vote conservative,” Vaemar assured them calmly.

  The panel brightened considerably. “Why is that?” the lady chairman enquired, looking almost lively.

  Vaemar thought for some seconds. What was the best way to put this so it didn’t sound terrifying? “The liberal party is very collectivist. Kzin are more individualistic. They can obey orders under a military rule, of course. But in a democracy where they are not so constrained, they will have little sympathy for a collectivist belief system.” That sounded a lot better than telling them that from a kzin perspective, herd species looked like prey and the individualists more like predators, and the kzin weren’t ever going to even consider joining the side of the prey. Besides, apart from those die-hards who regarded him as a quisling, the idea of voting against the son of Chuut-Riit and a grand-nephew of the Patriarch was literally unthinkable. Vaemar decided that this business of choosing words carefully so as to put things in a good light without telling lies was quite interesting.

  “So once the kzin see that we are for genuine freedom, they will vote for us preferentially?” The man with the beard was incredulous. He hadn’t expected the kzin to show such good sense.

  “Only a few deranged kzin would consider voting for the liberal party as it is at present. The old parties—the Herrenmanner and the Progressive Democrats—are shadows of their former selves, and I think will take a long time to rebuild, if they do so at all. Too many humans blame them, perhaps unfairly, for the lackadaisical pace of the original rearmament effort. There is no reason for any kzin to be interested in them. Perhaps the odd telepath. Once they can see the merit of voting at all, kzinti will overwhelmingly vote for conservatives, just as I would not consider joining the liberals.”

  “And the kzinretti?”

  “Those of low intelligence will either not vote or will vote as their masters direct them. The intelligent ones, the ones we call ‘the secret others’—of whom my own mate is one—will vote as they please, and any attempt to influence them would be met with defensive hostility. But there are too few of those to make a great difference. Much less than one in an eight-cubed.

  “It is not just that the liberals do not conserve,” Vaemar continued. “It is not even that they are willing to destroy the ecology of the swamp as a foolish ploy to change the electorate so as to favor themselves. It is that they favor the herd against the individual. Self-respect is central to the kzin ethos. It is built into our genes. To speak candidly, all normal kzin would see liberals as perverted and disgusting and less than, well, human.” And natural prey, but he didn’t have to say that.

  The bearded man brightened even more. That was pretty much how he f
elt about liberals.

  Vaemar went on. “And if the conservative party shows the way to allowing the kzin to engage in the political life of the world, then they will change the balance here drastically.” Vaemar sounded confident. He was. The knowledge that kzin did not lie was something the committee knew and were busily factoring into their calculations. There was an excited buzz as the panel discussed these interesting points with each other in an undertone. Vaemar thought that it wasn’t necessary to point out that one of the longer-term effects would be to drive more human beings towards the liberals, and to make the liberals more individualistic and less collectivist, until one day some kzin would vote for them. That they could work out for themselves. Or not.

  The rest of the questions were formal and nobody was very interested in the answers. The prospect of getting a fair number of new voters on the right side, their side, was absolutely irresistible.

  “Thank you, Lord Vaemar, I think we have enough information to be able to come to a decision quite soon. You will be hearing from us within a day or two,” the chairman told him. She even smiled at him until she remembered, but Vaemar didn’t smile back. Nobody had bothered about the effect on human beings of a kzin smile, because when a kzin bared his teeth, it wasn’t because he was amused by something, but because he was preparing to spring. But he didn’t tear her throat out either, he just bowed politely and left.

  After Vaemar had gone there were still some worried voices.

  “It’s all very well to say that we’ll win even in Munchen if we get the kzin vote. What if every human being votes against any kzin? ‘Dirty ratcat-lovers.’ They could hang that label on us.”