The Houses of the Kzinti
Jerry Pournelle, S.M. Stirling
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Two complete novels of the top-selling Man-Kzin Wars in one hugh volume: The Children's Hour by Jerry Pournelle and S.M. Stirling: As the war rages on between the mighty felinoid warriors from the planet Kzin and the wimpy leaf-eating monkey-boys from Earth, one Kzin commander has decided to learn from the monkeys and cooperate to conquer. But the humans know how to get the rivals of an enemy to cooperate, too. Cathouse by Dean Ing: In another corner of the galaxy, Carroll Locklear is stranded on a planet with a group of prehistoric Kzinti. To survive, he must find common cause, if not with the males, then with the females of that antiques species...
discipline each other as a unit. "I will consider it, when all of you can pass a test on the interpretation of human expressions and body-language." He drew himself up. "In the meantime, within the next two eight-days, there will be a formal hunt and meeting in the Patriarch's Preserve; kzinti homeworld game, the best Earth animals, and even some feral-human outlaws, perhaps!" He could smell their excitement increase, a mane-crinkling musky odor not unmixed with the sour whiff of fear. Such a
burning; a hand held before his eyes shook, and there were beads of blood on the fingertips. Skin hung loose around the wrist, gray and speckled with ground-in dirt. He could smell the rancid-chicken-soup odor of his own body, and the front of his overall was stiff with dried urine. "Come along, come along," Markham said impatiently, putting a hand under his elbow and hauling him to his feet. Jonah followed unresisting, looking dazedly at the crazy quilt of components and connectors scattered
"It stands self-condemned," he said. "Guard-Trooper, take it to the live-meat locker." Capital ships came equipped with such luxuries. "That does not solve our problem," Conservor said quietly. "They have vanished!" Traat-Admiral snarled. "Which shows their power," Conservor replied. "We had trace enough on this track—" "For me! I believed you before we left parking orbit, Conservor. I believe you now. Not enough for the Traditionalists! I feel the shadow of God's claws on this mission—"
happened?" Jonah's voice was sharp again; a week in the autodoc of the oyabun's flagship had repaired most of his physical injuries. The tremor in his hands showed that those were not all; he glanced behind him at Ingrid and Harold, where they sat with linked hands. "Just what I said," General Buford Early said. He glanced aside as well, at Shigehero's slight hard smile. "So much for the rewards of heroism," Jonah said, letting himself fall into the lounger with a bitter laugh. He lit a
afterward, to lay siege to the cave. "Let them; it will be empty," Scarface grunted. "Locklear, you have seen me pilot my little craft. I wonder . . ." "Hardest part is getting around those deserters, if any," Locklear said. "I can cover a lot of ground when I'm fresh." "Good. Can you navigate to where Boots had her birthing bower before noon?" "If I can't, call me acolyte," Locklear said, smiling. He set off at a lope just after dawn, achingly alert. Anyone he met, now, would be a target.