Man-Kzin Wars XIII-ARC by Larry Niven Page B

heart began to beat so furiously that his head swam and his tail lashed wildly.
    There before him was depicted the cramped confines of the cockpit of a kzinti scout ship. The detail was so perfect that the kzin felt no doubt the humans had access to an actual ship. Immediately, as he might have leapt after prey in a hunting park back home, the kzin’s mind came to what he was certain was a correct conclusion.
    The humans had captured this scout ship. Not the crew, he determined . . . Even with the scrubbers that efficiently cleansed and recycled the air in this contained environment, he thought he would have smelled another kzin. No. Not the crew, but the ship, definitely the ship.
    A low growl rumbled in his throat and before he could stop himself, he turned to Dr. Anixter.
    “What?” he asked. “Why?”
    “A ship,” she said simply. “Or rather part of a ship, a picture of part of a ship. Otto Bismarck wants you to help him understand the controls.”
    Most of these words had been introduced in their language lessons. Even “controls” had come up in the context of permitting him to use the food dispenser and waste disposal facilities in his room. There was one rather glaring omission and he addressed it.
    “Ship?” He sketched the rounded lines of a non-atmosphere-entry-capable vessel with one claw, then the more disk-like lines of ships used for surface-to-space transit. “Ship?”
    “Ship,” Dr. Anixter agreed.
    She held up her holopad. A parade of vessels—all human-make, the kzin noted—glided across.
    “This ship,” she went on, lowering the pad, “is a kzinti ship. Otto Bismarck is interested in learning how it works.”
    The kzin’s mind raced. He could refuse. He should refuse. However, if he did so, he would be pressured to cooperate. He had begun to understand the relationship between Otto Bismarck and Jenni Anixter. He thought that in this particular situation, Otto Bismarck’s will would dominate. Therefore, Dr. Anixter could only protect her patient to a point. After that . . .
    The kzin’s spirit shrunk from the idea of hiding behind the protection of a soft, weak human—a female human, at that. He knew this last response was irrational. Human males and females operated as equals in their society, but he couldn’t help his ingrained prejudice that females were weaker.
    He dismissed that train of thought as irrelevant. Very well, in most cases, refusing to cooperate, even if that meant submitting to torture and even execution, was the right choice. However, this was not most situations. Suicide had been the best choice when he had thought there was no opportunity for escape. Now, however, it appeared that the humans might indeed have a ship, a ship he could fly, a ship he could use to escape.
    Surely, it was now his duty to live; not only to live, but to remove the ship from human claws. What he did after that . . . That would have to wait. Escaping into kzinti-held territories would be his best choice; however, he had no idea if that was possible. He could crash the ship into this asteroid, in one move eliminating two of their prizes: himself and the ship. If he was lucky, he might seriously damage the base.
    Jenni Anixter was staring up at him, her omnipresent smile vanished. He wondered if she could guess what he was thinking. He hoped not . . .
    Hope. He hadn’t felt that for longer than he could remember. What had she said about hope? Something about life and hope? Very well, Dr. Anixter had assured him that he would live. Now he would do what he could to assure that he had reason to keep hoping.
    Unfortunately, he thought the first step of his program was likely to be rather painful. For the first time in a very long while, he found himself hoping that he would survive.
    * * *
    Initially, the kzin refused to have anything to do with the holographic representation of the kzinti ship’s bridge. He would not even step into the room. He did so after a time, partly coaxed by Jenni