Summary: Has anyone got ideas on how to finish this?
Keywords: Kzinti, story, help, wanted
Message-ID: <C39AIF.IMx@dcs.glasgow.ac.uk>
Date: 2 Mar 93 10:01:27 GMT
Organization: Glasgow University Computing Science Dept.
Lines: 191
I am working on a TNG story involving the Kzinti and the Ferengi, possibly
shading over into a Known-Space crossover. I got the first bit done during the
Chrismas break... but then got stuck. I've completely run out of ideas, and am
searching for some inspiration. Can anyone help? I am posting the story below,
and would appreciate any comments/ suggestions. Unfortunately, I am not able to
recieve external mail. This is awful netiquette, but could you post replies to
this group? keep them short and simple, obviously- I am not looking for a
complete story, just a few ideas as to where I might take this one next. It's
bugging the hell out of me that I can't seem to get any further: IMHO it's a
pretty good idea...
By the way, could the man who posted the info on the ratcats over the
Chrismas break please repost? I was on holiday, and completely missed it.
O.K, enough rambling: on with the story!
PATRIARCH
A STAR TREK STORY
PROLOGUE
The forest was a lush green and vibrant orange. Two varieties of chlorophyll
competed against and supported one another in an ecosystem which owed nothing
to Sol or her children. The air was silent and still, broken only by the
occasional cry of unidentifiable forest creatures. Abruptly, the silence was
broken. A frantic rustling in the bushes signaled the ages old flight of prey
and predator, hunted and hunter...
Another moment and the prey broke out into the open. It was a small creature,
rather like an overextended starfish. It's five limbs were chalk blue and its
five compound eyes glittered with fear. It did not belong in this forest.
The predator, on the other hand, was very much at home. It was covered in
black-and-orange banded fur, except for its pink bat-like ears and its naked
lashing tail. If it had stood upright, an act of which it was fully capable, it
would have topped two meters. It looked like a tiger, but moved rather more like
a weasel, with a chilling sinuous grace... only the large forehead and extended
braincase suggested that it was anything other than an ordinary predator.
Another few seconds and the chase was over. with a final prodigious leap the
Kzinti was on top of its prey. Its forward momenteum carried into a roll,
which ended several meters further on with the Jotoki held firmly in claws and
fangs.
The Kzinti sat up, blood dripping from between its fangs. It had been a good
chase. The Jotoki were intelligent - even the wild, unbonded ones which had
never known a master. This one had given him a good hunt before he caught it,
and had in fact several times come close to evading capture.
Wearily, the huntjuices draining from his muscles, the Kzinti started back
towards the lodge, the dead Jotoki held firmly in one massive paw. It was not
far, and night was approaching rapidly, as it always did in these latitudes.
This was one of the many royal hunting estates on the homeworld itself. It was a great priviledge to be allowed to hunt here, a priviledge accorded to only a
select few. He himself had only recently come into this great honour, and the
glow of the great victory he had won in order to be here still warmed his liver. It was not a victory in the sense that his ancsestors had known, won be tooth
and claw against an enemy of flesh and blood. Rather, his victory had been won
in diplomatic battle against a greater foe than his ancestors could ever have
imagined - the United Federation Of Planets. A strange victory, signaled not by
defeat, but by agreement. Such were the New Ways that the sons of Kzin had to
learn...
Or maybe his victory had instead been won against those intractible
traditionalists in the Patriarch's own government - the fundamentalists who
beleived only in the strength of their own claws and who resisted any hint of
change with a terrible strength. They would be left behind, he knew. The galaxy
was changing, and the canny hunter changed with it, or starved for lack of prey.
He shook his head as if to free himself from these thoughts. This is meant to
be a holiday, he thought, and the Fanged God knows, I've earned it. Let politics wait till another day, I'll ...
His train of thought was interrupted by a rustling in the bushes high above
his head and a whiff of scent. I know that scent! he thought wildly. But what
is HE doing here? Even as he framed the question, he realised the answer. It
was, in a way, hardly surprising. The fundamentalists - those mewling kits! -
could not do their own work, so they had hired one outside their own ranks to do
what must be done. He wondered if he could possibly escape, but knew the thought to be futile. So instead he turned to face his adversary with a snarl on his
face, the dead Jotoki held in his grasp like a weapon...
Chapter One - The Cat In The Bag
Captain's Log, Stardate 44523.1
We have been chosen to escort Ambassador Selart to Kzin for the peace talks
with the warlike inhabitants of that world. This is an historic occasion; the
Kzinti were one of the first starfaring species ever encountered by the Human
race. It is unfortunate that that contact led to four bloody - if breif -
attempted invasions of the solar system, the last a war against the fledgling
United Federation Of Planets. Since that time, few have seen a Kzinti face to
face - the last notable incident involved Commander Spock and Lieutenants Sulu
and Uhura from the original Starship Enterprise, our predesserors.
Now, however, for the first time in three centuries, the Kzinti wish to talk.
The political situation on Kzin seems to have eased to the point where one
Kzinti - name of Hass-Speaker - was able to persuaded his government to open a
dialogue with the Federation, with himself as the cheif diplomat, or
"Speaker-To-Animals", as his title suggests. I am looking forward to meeting
this singularly able Kzinti, and expect that the talks will be fruitful to both
our peoples.
The Enterprise dropped out of Warp at the edge of the Kzinti solar system.
They had crossed the Kzin Neutral Zone some hours ago - unchallenged, despite
the fact that a pride of Slashing Jaw fighters had apeared to escort them in.
As they approached Kzin at sublight speed, they opened hailing frequencies.
"This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the United Starship Enterprise, Starfleet
Registry NCC - 1701 - D. We are carrying Ambassador Selart of the Federation. We request permission to enter parking orbit around Kzin"
The reply came as a complete surprise. "Request denied" came the snarling
reply.
"May we know why?" asked Picard with a slight frown.
"Hass-Speaker is dead. There will be no talking. You will return to your own
space, _monkey_, and await further instructions." With that, the transmission
ended.
Captain Picard's frown deepened. In the chair beside him, Commander William
Riker spoke up.
"Why would they let us get this far in, and only now tell us to leave?"
"Why indeed, Number One?" replied Picard thoughtfully. "Perhaps they are in a
state of turmoil, and are not sure of what to do next. We can only hope that
they get things sorted out soon. In the meantime, let us do as the cat says. Mr
Crusher, about turn. Take us back into Federation space. Number One, you have
the con. Page the Amassador and appraise him of the situation. I will be in my
ready room."
On the surface of Kzin all was, as the captain had surmised, in turmoil.
Hass-Speakers death (some whispered _murder_ ) had thrown the whole smoothly
running process of organising the peace talks into dissarray.
As the first rays of dawn touched the spires of the palace, the member's of
the Patriarch's court filed into the Council chamber. these were the cream of
the cream, the rulers of Kzinti society; powerful, wealthy cats. Many had come
to their power through hard work and diligent service, others through family
connections. Still others had got here through strength, cunning and skill with
the watisii, the Kzinti ceremonial dueling knife. Indeed, many had the ears of
fellow Kzint dangling from their belts. Most frequently, a combination of all
three had figured in their success. And yet, despite their work, and family, and
prowess, and their warrior's skills, a gingery smell pervaded the atmosphere of
the chamber, so strong that even the puny nose of a human would be able to
detect it; a smell of fear.
The Patriarch was angry.
" I want this assasin and his masters found."
The words were ground out from between bared fangs. Hass-Speaker had grown
steadily in the Patriarch's favour for many seasons now. It was rumoured that
his latest victory was to have granted him a full name. But now, the most it
would grant him was swift justice.
"I want them found, " continued the Patriarch, "and I want them brought to me.
They will suffer for their crimes. Their ears will be removed from their living
bodies and burned."
All in the room flinched at that judgement. No ears - no honour - no life.
Nobody would take such even as a slave.
" When I am finished with them they will wish - they will beg on their backs!
- that I had killed them. The will lick sthondat offal rather than face me, eat
grass rather than live another hour. This I swear before you all."
The room was silent. The smell of fear had increased during the Patriarch's
vow. Nobody wanted to be near the ruler of all Kzin when he was in this sort of
mood.
"That will be all. Court dismissed."
With a profound feeling of relief, the Kzinti in the room shuffled out, each
one bowing as he passed the Patriarch's throne. As the last one reached the
door, the Patriarch spoke.
"Not you, K'lart-Riit. I would talk with you further."
"I am my Emperor's servant." replied the functionary, ears bowed respectfully.
"You know all that goes on in the House Of The Speakers. Tell me, who should
we elect to replace Hass?"
Klart hesitated. He knew how this game was played. The Patriarch's mind was
already made up in this matter, and a succesor chosen. If he, Klart, misstepped
now...
"Two Kzin spring to mind." he replied carefully. "One is Quick-Son of
Zan-Chrrr, the other Clever-Son of Siss-Farrr. Both have been in Hass-Speaker's
Coterie of aides for some years now, although neither has earned even a partial
name..." he paused, gathering his thoughts, then continued. "They are both quite
young of course, both apprenticed as cubs. Of the two, I would favour Quick, who
has the better way with words, but that is a purely subjective descision."
"Quite correct" replied the Patriarch. "I have chosen the other." His fangs
came together in what a human might have called a grin - unless he was a very
perceptive human, that is.
**********
Next -
Some background on Kzinti from Data
A scene on a Ferengi Shadow-Trader class scout
The emperor gives Clever the Job
A meeting somewhere secret - more murder plotted by hooded figures.
The first talks - on a barren moon
O.K. that's all I have been able to do so far. I think I want to try & parallel
the Man/Kzin wars series - it might be interesting to see Chuut-Riit in this
situation. Any critiscisms of my writing and corrections to my background stuff
