Free Statesman by Piers Anthony Page A

emergency. Unfortunately, it has an unpredictable effect on some felines, and of course intruders could use it also. So we prefer to seek other mechanisms.” He handed me a sample tube. “You can test this on one of the caged animals, if you wish.”
    I took the tube. “Let's complete the formal tour first.”
    “However, we do have some prospects with the weasels and ferrets,” the guide said, showing the way to the next complex of chambers.
    Suddenly an alarm sounded. The guide glanced nervously about. “That means an emergency,” he said.
    “An animal must have escaped. We had better get to a safety chamber. There's one in the ferret complex.”
    But before we could get there, the chamber door behind us burst open and a monster appeared. It was catlike, but larger than any tiger, with two six-inch fangs.
    “ Smilodon! ” the guide cried in horror. “That one was due to be destroyed!”
    Indeed, it was the dread saber-toothed tiger—right in the hall with us. It paused, recovering its balance, orienting on us. It growled with a certain anticipation.
    We were too far from the exit to reach it before the horrendous cat could catch us. Someone was bound to become its prey. It was clear that a single stab with those fangs could kill a man.
    “This chamber is empty,” the guard whispered, grasping the handle of a door behind us. “We can shut it in the hall—”
    He opened the door, and we scrambled through: Spirit, the guide, Tasha, and me. But before the guide could secure the door, the tiger smashed into it. The guide was knocked aside, stunned. Tasha screamed.
    Spirit's laser pistol was in her hand, bearing on the tiger. “Don't fire,” I protested. “We have the pacifier!”
    Spirit held her fire. This was a combat situation, and she and I were versed in combat. We never acted carelessly when lives were at stake.
    I opened the tube and quickly smeared its foam on me. Now I was protected. I had no weapon, but hoped I needed none.
    I approached the tiger, trying to put myself between him and the other three people. “Take it easy, Smilodon,” I said, extending my odor-covered hand.
    The tiger sniffed. Then he sneezed. Then he growled.
    “He's reacting wrongly,” the guide exclaimed. “He's one of the exceptions! It's maddening him!”
    Evidently so! But it was too late for me to unsmear myself. I backed away—and the tiger strode forward. He opened his mouth, and his jaws gaped to almost a full right-angle aperture. Those tusks now pointed right at me!
    I knew I could not escape this beast; the cat seemed to weigh close to a thousand pounds, and was hugely muscled, with stout yet sharp claws. The supreme predator! How on Earth had it ever come to be extinct? Perhaps it had consumed all its prey and had none left!
    I knew I was in extreme peril, but I didn't want to kill that animal. I had never seen such a superb example of survival fitness, and that appealed to me on a special level. But if the tiger sprang, Spirit's laser would catch it before it landed; she would not let me be killed, and her aim had always been perfect. I had to find some other way to pacify this creature.
    The odd thing was, I thought I understood him. I felt almost an empathy with the tiger, who had broken from his cage or confinement before being killed in the name of a failed experiment. I was the Tyrant, another type of failed experiment. Lord of the jungle, lord of a planet, deposed—what was the essential distinction? Smilodon was alive beyond his time, and so was I.
    I focused my talent, trying to comprehend the reality of this superb creature, not merely the illusion. Did the tiger really want prey—or did he want freedom?
    He wanted, I decided, neither. He wanted acceptance. That would encompass freedom. This was not his world, and he understood that; he could not survive alone, here. The only place he could hunt naturally was in a bubble chamber, when some frightened animal was loosed to him. A stupid tiger might