permitted themselves to be taken prisoner . . .
(This particular kzin had to remind himself that he had not permitted himself to be taken captive. Circumstances beyond his control had led to this shameful situation.)
. . . humans were taken captive with disturbing ease. Even the bravest could be interrogated by means of telepathy, although this option had to be used with prudence lest the telepath—never stable at the best of times—be rendered useless for the immediate future.
Despite his training in human cultures, the kzin was surprised when, following his routine physical a few days after his first meeting with Otto Bismarck, Dr. Anixter dismissed her assistant. Usually, the humans came to see the kzin in pairs. If one of the straps that bound his limbs needed to be loosened for some reason, a veritable army attended the procedure.
The kzin took these precautions as a compliment.
But today, following an examination that had become so routine as to no longer be humiliating, Dr. Anixter pulled a chair close to the bed on which the kzin was bound and waved her assistant away.
“No, Ida, I don’t need any moral support. I’m just fine. Besides, you don’t think I’ll be alone, do you?” She gestured vaguely at the ceiling and walls. “Otto Bismarck wouldn’t miss this interview for all the raw resources in the Belt. Besides, I’m certain the usual guards are standing by.”
Ida—a severe-looking woman who reminded the kzin of a narrow-bodied burrow hunter—sniffed, but departed as ordered. When the door swished open the kzin caught a whiff of male sweat, metal, and mineral oils. Dr. Anixter had been perfectly correct. Guards were indeed standing by, more than usual.
“Very good,” Dr. Anixter said, settling comfortably into her chair. “Now, we’re going to have a talk. I’ve studied your read-outs extensively and I’d bet my life—in fact, you might say I am betting my life—that you understand Interworld.”
The kzin was fascinated. As part of his training, he had spent some time with captive humans. Dr. Anixter smelled excited. Yes. There was a touch of fear, but this was outweighed by something else . . . Anticipation?
He wished his training had been more extensive, but even his teachers dismissed humans as a slave race rather more annoying than otherwise. Understanding the subtleties of their emotional landscape was not a priority. It was enough to know how to control them.
Dr. Anixter paused as if to give the kzin an opportunity to confirm or deny her speculation as to his ability to understand Interworld. When he did not react, even to a twitch of his ear, she sighed and shook her head. Her gentle smile—so unlike a kzinti snarl that it did not raise even a faint attack reaction in him—did not leave her rounded features.
“Very well,” she continued. “I have spoken with Mif . . . Otto Bismarck and he agrees with me that it is unlikely you will regain your health if you remain strapped to a bed. Otto is very eager that you regain your health. I, of course, would hate to lose my star patient. Therefore, as of today, we are going to begin a course of physical therapy—physical rehabilitation.”
The kzin had to fight not to unfurl his ears in astonishment, but he thought that Dr. Anixter might have noted a twitch. She did not comment, but went on with her explanation.
“You would probably be interested in knowing how well you are healing.”
Again the pause inviting him to agree or disagree, but this time the kzin managed to suppress even an ear twitch.
Smiling gently, as if they had just shared a joke, Dr. Anixter continued. “I have promised not to tell you how long you have been here, so forgive me if my references to time are vague. When you were brought in you were in terrible condition. Long-bones in your legs had been broken multiple times by something falling on them. Your hands were in bad shape as well. From recordings I was shown later, you’d apparently tried to
(This particular kzin had to remind himself that he had not permitted himself to be taken captive. Circumstances beyond his control had led to this shameful situation.)
. . . humans were taken captive with disturbing ease. Even the bravest could be interrogated by means of telepathy, although this option had to be used with prudence lest the telepath—never stable at the best of times—be rendered useless for the immediate future.
Despite his training in human cultures, the kzin was surprised when, following his routine physical a few days after his first meeting with Otto Bismarck, Dr. Anixter dismissed her assistant. Usually, the humans came to see the kzin in pairs. If one of the straps that bound his limbs needed to be loosened for some reason, a veritable army attended the procedure.
The kzin took these precautions as a compliment.
But today, following an examination that had become so routine as to no longer be humiliating, Dr. Anixter pulled a chair close to the bed on which the kzin was bound and waved her assistant away.
“No, Ida, I don’t need any moral support. I’m just fine. Besides, you don’t think I’ll be alone, do you?” She gestured vaguely at the ceiling and walls. “Otto Bismarck wouldn’t miss this interview for all the raw resources in the Belt. Besides, I’m certain the usual guards are standing by.”
Ida—a severe-looking woman who reminded the kzin of a narrow-bodied burrow hunter—sniffed, but departed as ordered. When the door swished open the kzin caught a whiff of male sweat, metal, and mineral oils. Dr. Anixter had been perfectly correct. Guards were indeed standing by, more than usual.
“Very good,” Dr. Anixter said, settling comfortably into her chair. “Now, we’re going to have a talk. I’ve studied your read-outs extensively and I’d bet my life—in fact, you might say I am betting my life—that you understand Interworld.”
The kzin was fascinated. As part of his training, he had spent some time with captive humans. Dr. Anixter smelled excited. Yes. There was a touch of fear, but this was outweighed by something else . . . Anticipation?
He wished his training had been more extensive, but even his teachers dismissed humans as a slave race rather more annoying than otherwise. Understanding the subtleties of their emotional landscape was not a priority. It was enough to know how to control them.
Dr. Anixter paused as if to give the kzin an opportunity to confirm or deny her speculation as to his ability to understand Interworld. When he did not react, even to a twitch of his ear, she sighed and shook her head. Her gentle smile—so unlike a kzinti snarl that it did not raise even a faint attack reaction in him—did not leave her rounded features.
“Very well,” she continued. “I have spoken with Mif . . . Otto Bismarck and he agrees with me that it is unlikely you will regain your health if you remain strapped to a bed. Otto is very eager that you regain your health. I, of course, would hate to lose my star patient. Therefore, as of today, we are going to begin a course of physical therapy—physical rehabilitation.”
The kzin had to fight not to unfurl his ears in astonishment, but he thought that Dr. Anixter might have noted a twitch. She did not comment, but went on with her explanation.
“You would probably be interested in knowing how well you are healing.”
Again the pause inviting him to agree or disagree, but this time the kzin managed to suppress even an ear twitch.
Smiling gently, as if they had just shared a joke, Dr. Anixter continued. “I have promised not to tell you how long you have been here, so forgive me if my references to time are vague. When you were brought in you were in terrible condition. Long-bones in your legs had been broken multiple times by something falling on them. Your hands were in bad shape as well. From recordings I was shown later, you’d apparently tried to
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