“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 felt 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.”
“Who cares? Vaemar’s exploits are well-known. Including the fact that he fought beside the Rykermanns, two of our most respected leaders”-he paused and bowed to them-“and is a friend of Dimity Carmody, or Lilly the Pink, as the old song calls her-‘The savior of the ’uman race.’ Anyway, it will be a long time before we have many more kzin candidates. Just one to show we want to engage with the kzin is all we need. If he does well, it will prove our foresight and wisdom. Also, the Jotok will get the vote when they grow to sentience. It was his expedition that found and saved them-as we will emphasize to them, if he is one of our party.”
“If…”
“Hell, it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t even make it, and I can’t see that happening. Not many folk around here will be voting for the liberals.”
“He speaks quite well, don’t you think? Sounds educated, of course. Might go down well in the Bundestag, those bloody libs posture around as if we’re all a load of hicks. And he’s a lord or something.”
“Yeah, but can you see him on the hustings getting through to some of the old-timers who hate the kzin worse than poison? And for Pete’s sake, can you see him kissing babies?”
There was a long silence as this picture went through their minds.
“I can’t imagine many mothers offering their babies to be kissed,” someone said. “They might be unsure of getting the whole baby back.”
“Vaemar’s teacher, Rarrgh who was Rarrgh-Sergeant, saved my life when I nearly drowned in a cave in the Höhe Kalkstein,” said Leonie Rykermann. “He gave me artificial respiration, and, as you can see, he kept his claws sheathed.”
The Rykermanns’ words mattered. Almost the only figures to have fought in the Resistance from the first day to nearly the last, they were Heroes of virtually legendary stature in Wunderland’s mythology.
Opinion was divided. “Perhaps we should ask Nils Rykermann’s opinion?” the abbot suggested quietly. This looked to be an excellent idea, and the committee brightened again.
“Professor Rykermann, do you have any views on the candidacy of Lord Vaemar?” the bearded man asked.
“To reject Vaemar’s candidacy will hardly improve man-kzin relations on this planet,” Nils Rykermann told them. “There are kzin on Wunderland, on Tiamat, and in the asteroids of the Serpent Swarm, who would like to be good, constructive citizens. Some, I am told, worked to rescue humans in the devastation after the UNSN Ramscoop Raid. Already many of them work on human projects, and not a few in positions of trust.”
Leonie interjected. “Rarrgh, Vaemar’s…” Leonie could not think of the correct word-major domo seemed faintly ridiculous and few here would know what verderer meant-“chief servant, twice saved my life. The first time he stopped me from drowning, the second time he ran through fire and helped Dimity Carmody give me resuscitation when the traitor Henrietta wounded me.” She had also saved the life of the kitten, its legs broken by the Morlocks and kept for live meat, who grew to be Karan, but modesty prevented her mentioning it.
A murmur ran through the gathering. The name of Dimity Carmody, the genius who deciphered the alien theory behind the first hyperdrive shunt, was a potent one here.
“Where is Dimity now?” someone asked.