Man-Kzin Wars – XIV

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“Hey, Judge, there’s a kzin outside the stockade!” The man was excited, with some reason. “He’s lying down spread out, on his face, like he’s already been shot.”

The kzin could have jumped the stockade, at least got his claws high enough to fight his way over. It hadn’t been built to keep out kzin. The judge had persuaded them to put it up because the lesslocks had become more than just a thieving nuisance, and their numbers had increased in recent years. What had puzzled everyone who had made it was how much bigger it was than seemed necessary; higher, and leaving a wide space between the village and the wall. But the judge had insisted they think for the future, and he was a persuasive man. So they’d gone along with him, as they usually did.

“I’d better come-and you men, don’t shoot unless he attacks. Which is very unlikely, I’d say. The submission posture isn’t something they take lightly.” The old man struggled to his feet. He walked with a stick these days.

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