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obvious to everyone. I am sure your viewers feel that as strongly as you or I do,” he went on smoothly. “But we need to move on, to strive for reconciliation with all. Some may well have collaborated to protect their families. Some may have believed, in a twisted way, that they were doing humanity a service—that they or their children might eventually rise to positions of authority or influence within the Patriarchy.”
    “But they would have seen what happened to the Jotok—a once proud and civilized species, reduced to the kzins’ slaves and food animals,” Stan objected.
    “I did not say that I agreed with such an attitude, or that it was plausible, only that it may have existed. We are reconciled with our quondam conquerors, as you have shown by interviewing a kzin tonight. We have forgiven them. We are striving to extend the hand of friendship even to these ferocious aliens. And we should extend it also to those lost souls who strayed under the occupation and gave aid to the enemy.”
    “It’s not the hand of friendship I’ll be extending if I find a human traitor who shot down a human ship to cozy up to the kzin rulers,” Stan told him. “It would be a quite different hand, believe me. That wasn’t just shameful or disgraceful, though it was that too. Not exactly on the order of some wretch in the Ordungspolitzei issuing a traffic violation notice on behalf of the collabo Government! Treason to humanity is a bit closer, don’t you think?”
    Without waiting for an answer, Stan turned to the camera and started his closing spiel. “This is Stan the Man, Stan Adler here, on the topic of who shot down the Valiant. Was it a legitimate kzin strike, a part of the war, or something much worse? Was it an act of treachery by human collaborators trying to ingratiate themselves with their overlords? Tonight you’ve seen one of the kzin, a student, not an overlord, and only born towards the end of the war, who has shown himself friendly to man. We of Wunderland also know that, however cruel and merciless they may be, the kzin despise liars and seldom if ever lie themselves. And you’ve seen Senator von Höhenheim, who doesn’t want us to find the truth any time soon. You make up your own minds as to which of them you’d rather have on your side in a fight, which one you’d trust. Good night.”

    “That bastard knows something. He’d not have dared speak to me that way if he didn’t.” The senator was white with rage. Alois Grün sat down without permission. They were alone in the senator’s office, a suitably large room with a rich carpet and wood panelling enriched by gold and crimson swirls, in a suite of rooms high above the streets of Munchen, spread out like a plan below. Low gravity encouraged high building, but the war had flattened much. Lights moved at the park near the spaceport, where acres of hulked kzin warships were gradually being demolished. It was night, but the sky was lit by the vast jewel of Alpha Centauri B, and the sliding points of light that were natural and artificial satellites.
    “He can hardly know anything,” Grün said carefully. “I agree he seems to have some definite suspicions. His closing remarks were tantamount to an accusation, but he was not as explicit as he would surely have been did he have any hard evidence. Oh, I don’t blame you,” said Grün. “I remember what we were promised: estates and slaves of our own on Earth or Wunderland if we cooperated, dinner in the officers’ mess if we didn’t. It wasn’t a difficult choice. Oh yes, we should have been good scouts and defied Ktrodni-Stkaa! Ktrodni-Stkaa, whom even other kzin were terrified of!”
    Von Höhenheim glared. His mind was working hard.

    Abbot Boniface walked in the abbey grounds with Vaemar. It was night, and the stars glittered above them in eternal silence. The orange exhaust flame of a chemical rocket vanished skyward. Somewhere, far beyond the range of visual sight, human and kzin fleets