Man-Kzin Wars XI, Hal Colbatch [story books to read .txt] 📗

monkey with any weapons or propulsion systems . . . I see you have your own weapons."

"Of course. We know there are many dangerous life-forms. We have had instructions."

"Never forget it. When the kzin ship went down, the crew abandoned it when they had fired the last of the ready-use ammunition that they could reach at the circling fighters and took to the swamp. They were a big crew, even after their battle losses, but their number was smaller by the time they got to this island. I'm talking about fighting kzinti, well-armed. You have maps, compasses, GPS?"

"Yes, and motion-detectors and autoguards for our camp. And a field autodoc. Telephones, of course."

"Don't rely on autoguards. And see here—" He showed the skull of a crocodilian on the shelving. "See those teeth? Bigger than yours, young kzinti, and a lot bigger than the rest of you can muster. Doc or no doc, you'll be a long way from help if you strike trouble."

"We've got telephones and rockets," said Rosalind.

"If you have problems, don't be backward about using them! I'll come if I pick anything up."

"Thank you."

"We all help each other in the Swamp. And the abbot is an old friend of mine. He says to help you, and I owe him . . . Look there."

They stared down at a thing like a Persian carpet of lights moving through the water beyond the window, a couple of feet below the surface.

"It's beautiful," said Anne.

"There are a lot of bioluminescent forms. That's something fairly special to show up in daylight. There are still endless wonderful things in Grossgeister, as well as dangerous ones. Night in the swamp can be something to see. If there are no natural lights I have my own." He touched a switch and submerged lamps illuminated the water beyond the window. "As you know, the biodiversity of this planet is thought to owe a great deal to the frequency of meteor-strikes. One can watch the life-forms passing down there for hours, and always something new. I'd make a feeding-station there, but I'm afraid the big carnivores would take it over.

"But to return to the danger, which I think is what the good Father wished me to impress upon you: there are about three hundred humans living in the margins of this swamp. People who know it relatively well. Some are second- or third-generation swamp-folk. In the last year at least fifteen have disappeared. And others in previous years. One here, one there. Don't ask me how, or why. Just watch out."

"Were they wearing locators?" asked Rosalind

"No. These are swamp-folk, not ROTC. They live in the marshes because there they are left alone. A lot of people don't like government, and if you suggested they carry an implant so government could track them they'd not take kindly to the idea. Even for their own good. We're a contrary bunch who hang on the skirts of the Great Ghost. . . .

"Don't forget," he went on, "we're relatively close to well-populated areas here. But a lot of this planet is wild. And things can come in from the wild."

"Then why do you live here?" asked Anne. "There's plenty of drier land available."

"Very simple. I love it. Like the other swamp-folk, perhaps I'm not too partial to government. And with modern medicine available again I needn't fear damp in my joints."

Not to mention the retainer you get for keeping an eye on things, thought Vaemar. Including things like me. I think your antipathy to government may be a little selective. Yet he also felt that, at one level, the old human was telling the truth.

"The dangers?"

"My Hero, young as you are, I see you have a few scars and ears already. What is life without danger? Even some of us monkeys know that as a question."

"Have these disappearances been plotted?" asked Vaemar. He was grinning, the reflex to bare the teeth for battle.

"Of course. Here." Marshy printed out several sheets of maps. "This is what the abbot meant you to have. Of course these are approximate areas only. Some of the times are only approximate, too. If you can see a pattern to it, good luck to you."

"One here, one there."

"Yes."

"But in the deeps rather than the edges . . ."

"Yes, as far as we can tell."

"Not a plague, then. A plague would be less discriminating."

"Quite. But in the swamp there are always plenty of things ready to eat you. It may be people have simply grown careless with peace. Neglected to set their locks and fences because there's no threat in the sky. Never mind the threat in the water. We're not a strictly logical species."

They thanked him and walked back to the canoe. Marshy gestured to Vaemar and drew him back, a little behind the rest.

"You are in charge?" he said. It was both statement and question.

"Yes. I'm the senior student . . . although I'm actually younger in years, of course. We mature faster."

"I know the University policy: no discrimination for kzinti, no discrimination against kzinti. I agree with it. You must earn your successes fair and square. And the abbot told me about you, too. His recommendation I trust.

"But what I did not, perhaps, wish to say in front of the others, is that with these disappearances . . . Kzin revanchists are suspected."

"I suppose that's inevitable. Perhaps it's even true."

"Do you think it's true? Kzin defiance? It would be counter-productive. . . ."

"We are not very skilled at defiance," said Vaemar. "We never had to defy enemies before. We just ate them up." He licked his fangs. "I suppose some kzinti might do counter-productive things."

"Satellites and radar would show up any big movements—air-cars flying, for example, or the discharge of heavy weapons," Marshy said. "And they're monitored by machines and alarms that don't nod off in the small hours. Something killing clandestinely sounds to some like kzin stalking behavior."

"Humans stalk, too," said Vaemar.

"There were a lot of feral children running wild on this planet by the