Larry Niven's Man-Kzin Wars - Destiny's Forge by Paul Chafe

Author:Paul Chafe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-01-11T16:00:00+00:00

Hunger leads the hunt.

—Wisdom of the Conservers

Ftzaal-Tzaatz stretched and yawned luxuriously on his portable prrstet. He rolled to his feet and walked out of the pop-dome that served as his lair and onto the sunburnt savannah. His was not the largest pop-dome, but unlike anyone else’s it was his alone. The afternoon heat soaked into his dark fur, a welcome change from the cool shade in his dome. Gravcars with beam weapons secured a perimeter around a small hillock in the grassland; closer in, his elite Ftz’yeer patrolled on raider rapsari. He had been on the hunt thrice around the Hunter’s Moon, but now his quarry was close, so close he could almost smell it.

He went to a smaller pop-dome beside his command lair. Guards jumped up to claw-rake as he came in, but he focused his attention on the figure who did not, lolling on a narrow pallet. Telepath was moaning incoherently, eyes rolled back in his head, mucus streaming from nose and mouth. He was in an advanced state of sthondat withdrawal. Ftzaal had seen the symptoms before. Denied the drug that freed its powers, a telepath’s brain punished itself through the pain center. Telepath’s skin would be on fire, the agony penetrating to every bone in his body. It was the weakness of telepaths that they needed the drug, that they would dishonor themselves to get it. It was the strength of the Black Priest cult that they controlled the drug, and so controlled the telepaths. That was the way of the world.

Ftzaal knelt by the pathetic figure and shook him roughly. “Telepath. Telepath!” It took him several tries to get a response.

“Please, the sthondat…” Telepath’s head lolled, his eyes opening but refusing to focus.

“Not until you find the kz’zeerkti for me.”

“Please, no! It dreams of burned meat and boiled roots.”

“Can that be worse than the cravings?” Ftzaal held up an infuser, forced Telepath’s muzzle around so he faced what he needed so badly.

“Please, I can’t tell without the drug. I need it…”

“You can tell without the drug, and you will. There is only one human on the planet. Yesterday you said it was close.”

“No, no not close, it’s far away.” There was desperation in Telepath’s voice.

“Where?”

“I can’t feel it. I need the drug. Please…”

“No drug until we have it.” He leaned close suddenly, snarling in the other’s ear. “What are you hiding, Telepath?”

“Nothing, hiding nothing.” Telepath convulsed and closed his eyes. The mind-trance was on him, not deeply, but enough for Ftzaal’s purposes.

Ftzaal watched him impassively. There was fear behind the pain. I have found something deep. “Then where is it?”

“In…” Telepath’s voice was halting. “In a valley…there’s grass, a stream. Yesterday the trees were burned, it’s with kzinti, many kzinti.”

“Many?” Interesting. “Is First-Son-of-Meerz-Rrit there?”

No response. Telepath convulsed again, writhing. “You won’t escape that easily.” Ftzaal leaned forward and pushed the infuser against Telepath’s biceps, depressed the plunger, just a fraction. Telepath’s eyes shot open, his breath coming in sudden pants. “Oh yes, please more…”

“Is First-Son-of-Meerz-Rrit there?”

“Yes…yes…he and his sister.

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