“'We do have a clever little… girl,' he said, taking Mother's arm, and pointing. And already I heard him stumble over that word 'girl.' Girls are human, you see. They both stared at it for a long time.
“'Can it be what I think it is?' But Mother was no longer looking at the screen when she said that. She was looking at me. It must be hard to have the realization hit you in a second that you have given birth to a monster, a freak. Father printed everything off and looked at it for a long time.
“'I think I understand the implications of the simpler equations,' he said. 'I think it shatters a principal paradigm of our knowledge of paraphysical forces… One of the paradigms… At least one…' Then he began to laugh, a strange laugh such as I had never heard before.
“I was getting bored again by that time, so I gave them a lecture. Rebuked Father for his slowness and stupidity. Told him I was angry at the limitations of the symbols he used. It was hard on my vocal chords because I'd used them so little before and that made me angry, too. Wondered at their tears. Thus began the career of Dimity Carmody. More tests, more brain-scans. The special schools—I told you I'd heard them speak of special schools—and everything else. Lessons in how to choose good clothes, for example. How to do my hair. Looking normal is a big part of being normal. Efforts to socialize the machine, the monster, with chess and music, to teach it to relate to human beings. They strengthened the little, little thread that connected me to normal humanity.”
“You laugh. You weep, Dimity,” said Vaemar. “I have seen your eyes when you behold a sunrise. I saw you toiling in the cave to keep Leonie alive as shots and flame flew about you. Never say you are a machine. As for a monster… do I look like a monster to you?”
“No. You are splendidly evolved to be what you are.”
“A killing machine?”
“Of course not! Or that is the start. You are a carnivore, a great carnivore, a mighty hunter, top of your food chain. But you, Vaemar, are so much else as well.”
“Yes. I am, thanks to the successful human reconquest of Wunderland, one of the few surviving examples under any star of an introspective kzin. Monstrous to normal members of my own kind, like Chorth-Captain. But we must not be sorry for ourselves. Would you, Dimity, really be different if you had the choice?”
“It is difficult to say. But I think not.”
“Nor I.”
“The only kzinti I know well are you and your Honored Step-Sire Raargh Hero,” said Dimity. “And I know that Raargh, too, in his gruff old way, is not merely valiant. He can be thoughtful, and chivalrous, as well. I do not forget that I owe him my life, or the pain he got saving me. We are both of species that have a great potential, and a paltry expression of it. But sometimes something shines through.”
“I know you and I are not machines, merely because we can think, or because we are different to the norm of our respective kinds,” said Vaemar.
“You have all the abilities of a young male kzin, and something else,” said Dimity. “You are more than kzin. But in some ways I am less than human.”
“You are no Protector,” said Vaemar. “You have free will. You can choose. You have morality.”
“In some things. Not when I dance with the equations.”
Chorth-Captain entered. He carried more restraining tape, and made them bind one another again. Then he removed the locator implants from under the skin of Dimity's inner arm and from between Vaemar's shoulders. The size of rice grains, the locators were meant to be removed without too much trouble. His claws were too sharp to cause Dimity much pain, and Vaemar simply looked contemptuous. It was obvious from Chorth-Captain's manner that he was doing something he should have done some time previously. He's hoping the Protector won't realize he's neglected to do this before, Dimity thought. And I'm hoping somebody's already traced them and is on their way. But the signal will be very weak. We've got a lot of rock around us, and 60,000 miles of space. But Chorth-Captain, whatever he's been before, has become one inefficient kzin now. He made some show of smashing the locators. Then he released Dimity and left her to release Vaemar.
Time passed. They had few ways of measuring it.
“You are crouched in as small a space as possible. Your limbs seem to vibrate spasmodically,” said Vaemar. “Are you sick? You were not hurt badly? You did not bleed for long. But I observe other differences about your body, too.”
“I'm cold,” said Dimity.
“You will burn energy with that vibration. You should rest and conserve your energy.”
“I can't. I have done so for as long as I can. But this is cave temperature. Deep-cave. I need clothes. These torn things are quite useless. My boots are all right—” she laughed “—but they don't keep the rest of me warm.”
“You may lie against me, if you wish,” said Vaemar. “I will try to warm you. But I warn you seriously not to make any sudden moves. I cannot always control my reflexes.”
She snuggled against his fur. He wrapped one great arm around her and presently she slept. Vaemar had not moved when the door opened again and Chorth-Captain entered. He looked down at the young kzin with disgust.
“Are you chrowling that monkey? I expected little enough of you, but this…”
He turned away. For a male kzin to turn his back on another so might be an expression of trust. But it could also be an expression of fathomless contempt. Vaemar leapt, claws extended, slashing at Chorth-Captain's neck, then striking with an elbow. His claw came away with blood and orange fur, and a short silver tube.
Chorth-Captain did not whirl into the counterattack. He staggered dazedly and sat down, hind legs splayed out before him, as old, mad bears that had spent too many years in zoo cages had once looked. Then he slumped on his side. Vaemar went to Dimity and set her on her feet.
“We were right,” he said. “A zzrou, or its descendant, but capable of controlling behavior as well as action. I have removed it.”
“Is he dead?”
“Probably not. Kzinti are much tougher than humans, and this thing has no wires or roots to suggest it was deep in his nerves or spine. As to the quality of life he may expect, that is another matter. He must live with knowledge of what he has allowed himself to become. The door is open. The catspaw is out of action. Now, perhaps, we only have five Protectors to deal with. Or perhaps more.” He picked up Chorth-Captain's w'tsai. “I feel less naked with this,” he said. Then he dropped it again. “But what use would it be against a Protector? Let him keep it. I will take this, though.” He hefted the beam-weapon. “Now, Dimity-Human,” he said, “you and I have a chance to do deeds fit for a song!”
“Lead, Hero!” she told him.
“Obviously, if we can get control of the ship, we should take it. But I do not think we will be allowed. They are surely monitoring us. But come!”
There was the “ward” with the rows of transforming Morlocks. There were no Protectors to be seen. “Why don't they try to stop us?” Vaemar asked.
“They are probably interested in seeing what we do. A practical lesson in our tactics.”
“That Sinclair field could be a weapon, perhaps. Urrr.”
“What are they doing with it? Growing more Protectors?”
“Chorth-Captain said the rest of the tree-of-life agent was still on Wunderland.” Vaemar peered into the field. “It looks like some small-scale industrial process. Some super-strong materials take a long time to grow, and they could be speeding them up. Mountings for hyper-drive motors need super-strong materials. That is what it looks like to me. Getting ready. But you know more of building the hyperdrive than I.”