The World of Ptavvs by Larry Niven Read Free Book Online Page B

Garner could see the slight tension in the muscles around the eyes, in the cheeks, through the neck. But Garner was very old. He had his own, non-psychic way of reading minds. He said, as if to empty air, "We'll be landing in half an hour. Greenberg will be sleeping peacefully until we get there."
    "Good," said Judy. She leaned forward and turned on the tridee screen in the seat ahead.
    ***
    Kzanol felt a brand new and horribly unpleasant sensation, and woke up sputtering. It was the scent of ammonia in his nostrils. He woke up sputtering and gagging and bent on mass murder. The first slave he saw, he ordered to kill itself in a horrible manner.
    The slave smiled tremulously at him. "Darling, are you all right?" Her voice was terribly strained and her smile was a lie.
    Everything came back in a rush. That was Judy. "Sure, beautiful, I'm fine. Would you step outside while these good people ask me some questions?"
    "Yes, Larry." She stood up and left, hurrying. Kzanol waited until the door was closed before he turned on the others.
    "You." He faced the man in the travel chair. He must be in charge; he was obviously the oldest. "Why did you subject Judy to this?"
    "I was hoping it would jog your memory. Did it?"
    "My memory is perfect. I even remember that Judy is a sentient female, and that the idea of my not being Larry Greenberg would be a considerable shock to her. That's why I sent her away."
    "Good for you. Your females aren't sentient?"
    "No. It must be strange to have a sentient mate." Kzanol dug momentarily into Greenberg's memories, smiled a dirty smile, then got back to the business at hand. "How did you bring me down?"
    The old one shrugged. "Easy enough. We put you to sleep with a sonic, then took over your car's autopilot. The only risk was that you might be on manual. By the way, I'm Garner. That's Masney."
    Kzanol took the information without comment. He saw that Masney was a stocky man, so wide that he seemed much shorter than his six feet two inches, and his hair and eating tendrils or whatever were dead white.
    Masney was staring thoughtfully at Kzanol. It was the kind of look a new biology student gives a preserved sheep's heart before he goes to work with the scalpel.
    "Greenberg," he said, "why'd you do it?"
    Kzanol didn't answer.
    "Jansky's lost both his eyes and most of his face. Knudsen will be a cripple for nearly a year; you cut his spinal cord. With this." He pulled the disintegrator out of a drawer. "Why? Did you think it would make you king of the world? That's stupid. It's only a hand weapon."
    "It's not even that," said Kzanol. He found it easy to speak English. All he had to do was relax. "It's a digging or cutting tool, or a shaping instrument. Nothing more."
    Masney stared. "Greenberg," he whispered, as if he were afraid of the answer, "who do you think you are?"
    Kzanol tried to tell him. He almost strangled doing it. Overtalk didn't fit human vocal cords. "Not Greenberg," he managed. "Not a. slave. Not human."
    "Then what?"
    He shook his head, rubbing his throat.
    "Okay. How does this innocuous tool work?"
    "You push that little button and the beam starts removing surface material."
    "That's not what I meant."
    "Oh. Well, it suppresses the. charge on the electron. I think that's right. Then whatever is in the beam starts to tear itself apart. We use the big ones to sculpture mountains." His voice dropped to a whisper. "We did." He started to choke, caught himself. Masney frowned.
    Garner asked, "How long were you underwater?"
    "I think between one and two billion years. Your years or mine, they aren't that much different."
    "Then your race is probably dead."
    "Yes." Kzanol looked at his hands, unbelievingly. "How in--" he gurgled, recovered, "how under the Power did I get into this body? Greenberg thought that was only a telepathy machine!"
    Garner nodded. "Right. And you've been in that body, so to speak, all along. The alien's memories were superimposed on your brain, Greenberg. You've been