followed, the kzin regularly was taken to the scout ship. He participated in various drills meant to check to what degree the scout ship was functional.
Miffy had what he believed was a fool-proof way of assuring the kzin’s cooperation. While he and his staff members wore pressure suits, the kzin was left naked to vacuum. This was supposed to assure that he did not do anything foolish, for if he did, he would be among the first to die.
As if a kzin would fear death if duty or revenge called, the kzin thought.
But he wondered if he had caught some infection of human caution. There were several times when he might have damaged the scout ship or some of its key components, but each time he held back. He told himself that this was because he did not wish to settle for half-measures. The humans had shown themselves quite good at repairing both damaged machines and damaged kzinti. If he were to act, the act must be final.
Self-doubt crept into his dreams. Was he really trying for the final measure or was there something else? He did not believe he feared to die, but was there something he feared more?
Did he fear going home?
* * *
Jenni watched as the kzin grew first stronger, then, with a sudden change of mood and health, ragged and weak. His appetite was reduced so that even his favorite steak hardly seemed to tempt him.
“You’ve been overworking him,” she said to Miffy. “I demand complete rest or I will not answer for the consequences.”
Miffy glowered at her, but he could not disagree.
“We have enough information that it will take us weeks to process. I wish he’d been able to explain the gravity polarizer to us! Still, the documents he translated, especially the print manual we found, give us some idea.”
“But not enough to figure out how to make one?” Jenni asked sympathetically.
Miffy shook his head. “No. Too much information is assumed. What we found was more like an operator’s manual. It tells you how to use the machine and even how to do basic repairs to various systems, but it doesn’t go into the theory of construction.”
“Stick your arm in the autodoc,” Jenni agreed, “and send me the readout. Simple to use, but providing no idea how the device itself works—much less how the human body the ’doc is diagnosing works.”
“Right.”
“So you can do without my patient for a few days?”
“I suppose.”
This last was said grudgingly, even distractedly. Jenni decided to take a risk.
“I’d like to go over the ship myself.”
“Why?”
“Did it occur to you that the kzin might have caught something? You had the environmental systems up and running, but if there was an infection in the scrubbers . . .As I recall, the original crew did not survive.”
“No. They were pretty much squished.”
“And that could have released something nasty. I want to take a bioscanner and see what I can gather, compare it to my patient’s bloodwork, do some other tests.”
“Wouldn’t it take a hardy bug to survive vacuum?”
“Microscopic life has survived in worse environments than within a ship, even a ship open to vacuum,” Jenni reminded him. “And it’s likely that some areas remained sealed.”
For a long moment, she thought Miffy was going to refuse her, then his expression grew thoughtful.
“That would be a hardy bug,” he said. Then his tone became casual. “Oh, why not take a look? Let me know the results?”
“Of course,” Jenni replied, thinking why doesn’t he just write “Let me know if you find something I can use as a bioweapon” on his forehead for me to read?”
She went down to the scout ship with Roscoe. They spent enough time there that the guards got distinctly bored. However, by the time they left, she felt fairly certain the ship could function with a single pilot.
Later, Jenni drew blood from the kzin and gave it to Ida with detailed instructions as to what she needed to look for. She asked Theophilus to do an analysis of hair, urine,
Miffy had what he believed was a fool-proof way of assuring the kzin’s cooperation. While he and his staff members wore pressure suits, the kzin was left naked to vacuum. This was supposed to assure that he did not do anything foolish, for if he did, he would be among the first to die.
As if a kzin would fear death if duty or revenge called, the kzin thought.
But he wondered if he had caught some infection of human caution. There were several times when he might have damaged the scout ship or some of its key components, but each time he held back. He told himself that this was because he did not wish to settle for half-measures. The humans had shown themselves quite good at repairing both damaged machines and damaged kzinti. If he were to act, the act must be final.
Self-doubt crept into his dreams. Was he really trying for the final measure or was there something else? He did not believe he feared to die, but was there something he feared more?
Did he fear going home?
* * *
Jenni watched as the kzin grew first stronger, then, with a sudden change of mood and health, ragged and weak. His appetite was reduced so that even his favorite steak hardly seemed to tempt him.
“You’ve been overworking him,” she said to Miffy. “I demand complete rest or I will not answer for the consequences.”
Miffy glowered at her, but he could not disagree.
“We have enough information that it will take us weeks to process. I wish he’d been able to explain the gravity polarizer to us! Still, the documents he translated, especially the print manual we found, give us some idea.”
“But not enough to figure out how to make one?” Jenni asked sympathetically.
Miffy shook his head. “No. Too much information is assumed. What we found was more like an operator’s manual. It tells you how to use the machine and even how to do basic repairs to various systems, but it doesn’t go into the theory of construction.”
“Stick your arm in the autodoc,” Jenni agreed, “and send me the readout. Simple to use, but providing no idea how the device itself works—much less how the human body the ’doc is diagnosing works.”
“Right.”
“So you can do without my patient for a few days?”
“I suppose.”
This last was said grudgingly, even distractedly. Jenni decided to take a risk.
“I’d like to go over the ship myself.”
“Why?”
“Did it occur to you that the kzin might have caught something? You had the environmental systems up and running, but if there was an infection in the scrubbers . . .As I recall, the original crew did not survive.”
“No. They were pretty much squished.”
“And that could have released something nasty. I want to take a bioscanner and see what I can gather, compare it to my patient’s bloodwork, do some other tests.”
“Wouldn’t it take a hardy bug to survive vacuum?”
“Microscopic life has survived in worse environments than within a ship, even a ship open to vacuum,” Jenni reminded him. “And it’s likely that some areas remained sealed.”
For a long moment, she thought Miffy was going to refuse her, then his expression grew thoughtful.
“That would be a hardy bug,” he said. Then his tone became casual. “Oh, why not take a look? Let me know the results?”
“Of course,” Jenni replied, thinking why doesn’t he just write “Let me know if you find something I can use as a bioweapon” on his forehead for me to read?”
She went down to the scout ship with Roscoe. They spent enough time there that the guards got distinctly bored. However, by the time they left, she felt fairly certain the ship could function with a single pilot.
Later, Jenni drew blood from the kzin and gave it to Ida with detailed instructions as to what she needed to look for. She asked Theophilus to do an analysis of hair, urine,
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